This will be the last of the "Lola is one" posts, I promise.
But really, my baby girl is one?
I still can't believe it.
And now for the 12 months stats.
-- 21 pounds (55th percentile)
-- 31 inches long (90th percentile)
-- Big head (97th percentile)
At 12 months, this kid is the definition of a chatterbox.
She has about 15 words in her repertoire, ranging from "mama" to "cwakah" (cracker). I take comfort in the fact our doctor deemed her "extremely advanced verbally," especially considering she shows no signs of wanting to walk anytime soon.
You win some, you lose some, right?
At 12 months, this chick is into EVERYTHING. We put her on the ground, she's off to the races immediately. I think she's got some sort of tracking device installed in the diaper bag, because she can locate and empty that thing within three seconds.
At 12 months, Lola loves to give kisses. Unfortunately, she's all about open mouth -- the more slobber the better. Let's hope she gets over it by the time high school rolls around.
At 12 months, Lola loves to read. She can spend hours in front of her books, talking and laughing and pointing to the pictures. This makes me happy, because I happen to be a book nerd myself.
At 12 months, Lola has found her inner performer. She loves to sing and dance, and frankly, we love to join her. So apologies to our neighbors, who have to listen to us blasting music at all hours of the day. Can't tame a party animal, I always say.
At 12 months, Lola loves soda. I blame myself -- it's only natural for an addict to pass down her tendencies to her offspring. She begs like a puppy until we put the straw to her mouth. Good thing they make tiny Diet. Dr. Pepper bottles these days.
At 12 months, Lola is still deeply in love with her grandmothers. No one holds a candle to "Nana" and "Mama." Yes, she calls my mother mama. Apparently we are interchangeable.
At 12 months, Lola's attitude has come forward at full force. She's quite a fan of tantrums these days, heaven help us. The other day after a particularly impressive performance, I put her in her crib, walked to our bathroom, shut the door and turned on the fan to drown out the sound of her relentless screaming. She's got sass, I'll give her that. And as exhausting as it has become, I still find it pretty hilarious.
We love our baby girl so much, even though she's not really a baby anymore.
Phew, I said it. Acknowledgement is the first step to acceptance, right?