Yesterday Ivy bit me on the forearm so hard it sent an electric shock down into my hand. When I put her down and scolded her, she laughed at me. Then today she came running at me full-speed, crash-hugged my legs and gushed, "Love youuu!"
I love her so much it hurts...and it really hurts. At least nursing is easy again. Ivy still wants milk about a thousand times a day, but she's getting more philosophical about it when I ask her to wait a second while I finish loading the dishwasher, put my shoes on, go to the bathroom, etc. She doesn't camp out on my chest the way she used to. (Today she napped in her crib! For an hour and a half! I celebrated by eating lunch.) She even pops off and says "udder side" when she wants to switch breasts.
She's not even two, so I'm letting the cow pun slide.
Ivy's new food discovery—just in time for summer!—is blended soup...in a straw sippy cup. (I keep hearing Sigourney Weaver's voice from Wall-E saying, "Time for lunch! In a cup!") Ivy calls it a "soupy cup" and asks for one three times a day. I call it genius, and why didn't I think of this when Westley was a toddler?
I'm feeling prematurely nostalgic for Ivy's brand-new babyhood. Her second birthday is a few months away still, but the increasingly bright sunshiney weather is giving me flashbacks. It doesn't help that one of my dearest friends will welcome her first baby very soon, and several moms at Westley's school and Ivy's toddler group either just had or are about to have babies.
It also doesn't help that Ivy was such a sweet, dear baby...
And now she runs and climbs, says "thank you" and "you're welcome," and blesses people when they sneeze. She's practically driving.
Happy one-and-three-quarters, chickadee.