He’s putting the Bourne Identity in the fridge.
He has a preference for straw cups over sippy cups.
He’s walking. Oh boy, is he walking.
And he’s talking. He says: mama, dada, Fletcher, truck, kitty, ‘what’s that’, hi, yeah, no, waves bye, and so many other things I can’t even remember right now.
It’s official. 2.0 is more toddler than baby. Sure, he’s still relying on me for nap and bedtime nursing sessions, and he’s not completing full sentences yet, but he’s not an immobile loaf lying on a blanket anymore, either.
And I’m so, so glad.
Mini Gwinn is doing some awesome things lately, too. Like being the kindest big brother ever. And impressing us with his math skills. I am one proud mama.