Somehow it slipped past my mom brain, but Henry turned 18 months old yesterday. 18 months. EIGHTEEN MONTHS. One and a half.

This may sound a little basic but, I CAN'T EVEN.

Henry is a feisty, energetic, and opinionated toddler. He has a scream to pierce eardrums and those slobbery open-mouth kisses that will melt the coldest heart. As of late, he has a few words under his belt including, mama, daddy, ball, waffle, yes, and several other half/almost words that you can somewhat understand from context.

Mostly, he's impressive with his physicality. His hand-eye coordination makes his sports-loving dada shed a single, proud tear. But really, he is already working on ball handling skills. His current loves are shooting hoops in our child-sized bball hoop throwing other balls up into the air and attempting to either catch them or hit himself in the head. He has no preference.

Lately, he's starting to stand up for himself against big sister. This has resulted in several screaming matches between the two of them and can I have a nap now? He is of the mind to waddle over to whatever big sister is doing -- a puzzle, building a tower, playing with her princess castle -- and knock sh** over. I call him my little tornado.

Category 17.

He loves to read books which makes my nerdy heart flutter. He often does this imitation thing where he will prop his book up, babble out loud while "reading" the pages, then looking at us before turning the page. I have no idea what he's saying, but oh man, it's wonderful.

Henry is on the fearless side, so we are going to have to watch this one. Where Emma was cautious about hot things, streets, animals, heights, and loud noises, Henry runs head first into danger much to the dismay of his frazzled mama. He'll wander out of the garage and find a rock. in the middle. of the street. Or he'll dive right off the couch. Or attempt to climb into the bath. His petite frame looks all small and cute, but he's a fierce shark under those cubby rolls.

I'm ready for my second nap.

He does love his big sister and his daddy more than anything. His sister can make him smile mid-tantrum. And he much prefers to cuddle daddy when he's tired or upset. His little legs scamper to wherever Paul is and it is SOPRECIOUSOMG.

On the eating front, let's just say, he's a bottomless pit. Often he'll eat his entire meal, then half of Emma's then some of ours. AT EVERY MEAL. A couple of nights ago we went out to dinner and he demolished two bread baskets then ate his whole meal AND THEN ate half of our cheesecake that we were supposed to share between the four of us. I have to secretly eat my food hiding behind something if I want to eat it alone.