Dear Cole,
Well, you've had your first big boy injury. You tripped at the French doors and broke your fall with your face. On the bricks. And, to make matters worse, your dad was replacing the door knobs so there was wood chips and sawdust all over your face when you got up. Blood and wood chips -- you wore it like a man.
Just the other day, you climbed up the chair to the table trying to get a cracker. You pushed the chair back out from underneath you and dangled on the table for a millisecond. And then it came… the (what appears to be slow motion) slide backwards hitting your head on the chair on the way down. It stunned you and I was able to distract you out of it and nary a tear came from you. You're one tough little dude.
When you wake up the first thing you do is run to the basket of movies, pull it out, grab the "Cars" movie and say "piTOW, piTOW, PITOW!!". That's your catch phrase for "Kachow" like Lightening McQueen says. It's a love affair. I think you're also smitten with Sally, whom you affectionately call "YaYa".
You say a million words. Or, at least it feels that way since Zoe was a late talker and took some encouragement. You will try any and all words. Bumblebee (your favourite song), cookie, juice (although I don't know why this is one of your words, you've never had any) (to my knowledge) (maybe your dad is secretly feeding you juice and cookies for lunch), bus, truck, choo choo (you LOVE trains which is convenient since we live beside train tracks), water, up, nigh nigh, baby, push, wee (for swing or slide), out, bickie (for cracker), lellow (for yellow), the list goes on and on. And, you're starting to do two word sentences… last night you said "Love you!".
* Proof that the second born will always be SO FAR ADVANCED and MUCH MORE EASY GOING and TOUGHER and SILLIER than the first. He he he.
You've got a massive beer gut. It's obviously from all the juice and cookies that your dad is sneaking you. Or, it's because you are the biggest eater (you hold the record at 6 adult size sausages) but you don't seem to be getting taller. Just ROUNDER.
You run everywhere. No walking. Run down the hallway. Run into Zoe's room. Run to the table. Run outside. Run and trip out of the French doors, oops, we covered that.
You're tough like diamonds, so much more shiny and much more precious, we love you!
Mommy Bear
* Ok, busted, this comment is because your dad and I are the second born and OBVIOUSLY FABULOUS people…
