Dearest Bleu,

What a difference a year makes. Last summer you were in 3-month onesies and bare feet. And a frilly yellow jumper, because that's the summer I fell in love with all things frilly and yellow. You curled up, clasped your hands and drifted off in my loving embrace. Every night. So peaceful. You rarely fussed, except when I buckled you into the car seat. You picnicked in the park, rolled over for the first time, and smiled back at your sweet brother. You studied him closely. You found your thumb, for a while. You had SHARP nails.


You nursed every hour or so and startled easily. You slept lightly and in spurts at night. You had GERD, so you barfed a lot but still never lost weight. You enjoyed cool breezes. But fireworks, tractor parades and the Jeep top off... not so much. You were frightened of men for some reason. Cried when they tried to hold you. But otherwise you were utterly content. You were itty bitty and adorable, and I could hardly imagine you any other way.


Fast forward to now. You wear 24-month dresses, big hats and goddess sandals that you picked out yourself. You are confident and clever. I'm just in awe of you. You run through mud puddles and jump in pools. You want for adventure. You are a combo platter of girly girl and tomboy. You sit on potties {not my idea}, chalk on driveways, slide down slides, and color with crayons. You dig through the imaginary play bin and layer up. You hop on Buby's tricycle when he's not looking. You help me with laundry. You are ticklish. You are the messiest eater on earth. You like to use forks and spoons and do it all by yourself. You need a bath after breakfast.


You dig at the back of your neck when you're tired. You walk into the bathroom after you've filled your diaper. Because you know the drill. You grunt + mumble + point when you want something. You build block towers and knock them down. You cross your feet. You sleep on your back. You do splits {as of this morning}.


You love ice water, listening to guitar and rubbing sunblock on my arms. You cry "Mama? Mama?" in a panic when I walk out of the room. You think anything with a handle is a purse. You run from me when it's time to do your nails. You hear a motorcycle across town and yell "Dada!" You elbow me to get down. You wear two backpacks at a time. You are learning the stairs. You get spooked when others approach too fast and cling to my left leg in crowds. You plant kisses on request. You brush your FOUR teeth twice a day. You dance with your daddy to upbeat chick songs. You CLIMB.


You eat veggies, fruit, cheese, yogurt, bread, and meat. And no-salt Saltines. Those are yummy. You will try anything, except milk out of a cup. That gets thrown on the floor in protest. I've tried everything. You have a raspy voice that's so unique to you. You like to follow directions. You rarely shed tears for boo boos. You are easy going and flexible, yet one of the most determined people I know. You smile while shaking your head "NO," like you know exactly how cute you are. You stand for diaper changes. Always have. You love your Bitty Baby. You close doors + gates that are open. You don't like to see Buby cry. You sleep pretty well. You are 15 months today. In one short rotation of seasons you have become such a little girl. I'm thinking motocross next summer. At this rate.