This is Frog a year ago:
I’m amazed at how much can happen to a little body in a year.
From rolling to sitting, eating to crawling, to attempted walking (still to be mastered) and now…talking.
At 16 months old, I feel like I’m getting to know my daughter all over again. She may not be putting one foot in front of the other yet and she may make lots of strange gurgly noises, but she’s certainly not my tiny baby any more. She’s a diva, with a huge personality.
She can laugh hysterically and scream in the same breath. She can stamp her feet in a way Maria Carey would be proud of. And boy, that girl can talk. She never shuts up actually – I’ve no idea who she gets it from.
Just last week Frog had only one proper, understandable word in her vocabulary: Mummy. She used it for everything. “I want milk”, translated to “Mummy mummy mummy”. “I’ve done a poo”, translated to “Muuuuuummy Muuuummy”. It was incessant.
But now she’s added Daddy, No and Dog to the list. She can tell you what noise a dog makes (“Woof”, in case you weren’t already aware) and what noise a cow makes (it’s “Moo”, just so you’re clear). She can point to her head, nose, mouth and ears when asked where each part of the body is. She can scream at the right place in Row Row Row Your Boat. And she has a new name for me.
Apparently she’s outgrown the use of Mummy already. From now on I’m to be called by my first name only. “Molly” is the new “Mummy” don’t you know.