Hannah's Memoirs: 18 Months

Well, if it isn't your favorite kid again! I'm here to fill you in on all of the totally cool stuff I've discovered over the past, um, month. A lot can happen in 30 days when you're little, okay?!

Since I don't really know where to start, I'll just jump right in and resort to the tried and true bullet-list format.

. . . 

-- I am absolutely, 100%, 'no doubt about it' addicted to books. My two favorites also happen to be from the 1980's, so take that to mean what you will. All I can say is that mom can't read "A Frog Doesn't Gallop" and "Baby Mickey" enough to satisfy me. She tries, but after the 10th read in one sitting, I can totally detect a false enjoyment in her voice. So rude.






Mom always teases me because I chew on my finger when she's reading a book. As soon as she opens that bad boy, BAM, in goes the finger. You may notice that the picture of me hangin' in dad's lap, I have my finger in my mouth. And, yes, that is Ozzie the frog in action up there. And down here: {just remember-- he doesn't gallop. Or swim. Or scurry. Or crawl. He hops}:



Point taken, mom. Point taken.


-- And speaking of being addicted, my dad brought home a monster-sized slurpee from work one day. I really don't feel that I need to expound on that one, do you?






-- I can't stand still. I'm fairly certain I get it from my dad because he can't stand still either. And this isn't the traditional busy body "Hi-I'm-a-toddler-oh-look-a-schoolbus" kind of way. I have to sway from side to side when I'm standing. . . otherwise I think my head will explode.

-- I can officially say "No" and actually have it sound like the real word. I'm pretty proud of myself and practice it often. And, for good measure, I point my finger and wave my arm like I'm swatting stuff while I say it. I really think it helps get my seriousness across.

-- Also new in my ever-increasing vocabulary: "Zo-Zo" for Zoe; "Ba Ba" for book; and "Bay-bee" for baby; and my very most favorite: "Tank You!" for "Thank You!" Oh, and by the way, if you hand me something, I'll say thank you over and over and over and over until you say you're welcome. Consider yourself warned.

-- I keep trying to tell my mom and dad that I'm not to be held responsible for their lost possessions. For example, they keep asking me where their nose is or where grandma's eyes are. Come on, people. It's not my fault you can't remember.

-- I had my first experience with an interesting thing called as "Nur-sery" a couple weeks back. It was intense, you guys. I didn't even notice mom and dad were gone for the first hour, but then I made sure they could hear me wail from out in the hallway; I was so done having "FUN". Since I refused to be taken for a sap again, I made sure to high-tail it out of there immediately after snack time and entertain myself thereafter by taking riveting self-portraits like this one:




-- Once I get an idea in my noggin, I have a hard time getting it out. For example, I think every animal is a dog. Llama? Dog. Cow? Dog. Cat? Dog. They all get the same "woof woof" sound affect, too. Sorry, guys.

Every truck I see, regardless of it's hue, size, make or model, is surely my father. I tell mom that, but she always manages to come up with some witty retort such as "No, Da-Da is at work!" Sheesh. Like I wouldn't recognize my own dad's truck when I see it.

-- Mom had me watching a movie in her bedroom one afternoon and I decided I had had enough and wanted a change of scenery. I can't remember how because I haven't done it since, but I escaped out of that blasted play pen and sauntered into the living room like nothing was amiss. It was pretty awesome. Now if only I can remember how I did it!

-- Swinging on the playground has to be the best invention since sliced bread and mashed bananas, yo. Seriously. Go try it.

--Now, these two points I don't see any problem with. But mom, always the one to rain on my crazy parade, can't wait until I grow out of them. Whenever she says "no", I scream at the top of my lungs at a decibel specially formatted to turn your brain to slush. I'm particularly fond of doing it at the store around many previously-sane people.

I've recently decided it was hilarious to pound my little fist in to the side of my head. With great gusto, too. Mom and dad made the mistake of laughing once {because it was so out of the blue and, frankly, funny} and now I love to do it when I want attention. If you see me with a goose egg or black eye, odds are good I did it to myself.

-- I finally coerced my parentals into buying me a "Big Girl Car Seat". It's pretty much like cruising around in a Cadillac by default. No offense meant to the dinged and dented Suzuki with crusty food crumbs in the seat cushions that my mom drives around.



'Sup. Yeah, I know you're jealous.

. . . . .

You guys are the best friends and family EVER! Thank you so much for putting up with my ridiculously cute face and unbearable intelligence. I know it must be a trial. Oh, wait. Mom keeps saying something like "Be nice". . . Whatever that means. She usually says it when I try and drive my finger into her eye socket, but maybe it applies here, too.

 So, let's get real, here.

Thank you.

I absolutely love knowing you and I'm so blessed to have you in my life. My parents sure did bring me down from Heaven to a rockin' awesome group of people!

Until next time, peeps.

Peace out.