Someone is getting her two-year molars about five months too early.
But you are running around, eating, and generally doing well. You have been playing with a bucket and blocks that used to belong to your father. Your favorite things to eat are olives, sauerkraut, hummus, granola. You sometimes grab my hand and press it against your face. You hold our hand while walking when you are uncertain about the situation.
While I was cooking one day, you raised your arms and insisted "up, up, up." I pulled over a chair so that you could stand higher and watch what I was doing, and you pushed your face as far as you could and reached out your hands to touch the food I was preparing.
You like sitting on your potty with all your clothes on.
But this day, when I took these photos, you were serious and low-spirited. Your teeth hurt, you were having a hard time coping with frustration. You cried more easily. You wanted to be held a lot more.
You have also been sporting more bruises and scrapes on your knees. You've been coming home with splinters in your hands. The most common word we've been hearing is "owie." But when I hold you to pull wood slivers out of your palms with tweezers, you cry and cry but don't pull away. I am grateful that you are active and curious, and that you seem to understand enduring discomfort for a good outcome.
Closer to two than we are to one, kiddo.