Bye-Bye, Dada

Here Tate is, at 18 months, and he's now given up calling Lance "Dada". It is now "Daddy". Lance is just a little sad about this. It's just another way he's becoming a little boy. For some reason, I'm still "Mama"--at least most of the time. I've heard "Mommy" just a few times, but "Mama" is his word of choice for now. He also refuses help on the stairs and refuses to slide down on his belly. So far this has resulted in only one fall.

I remember that Rowan, between the age of 18 months and around 22 months, grew up so quickly. Her speech went from single words to short sentences. She learned her colors, shapes, letters and numbers. She started having opinions about her clothing and hair. Her favorite color was blue. She was obsessed with art projects and one particular pair of blue socks that were way too small for her.

It will be interesting to see how the two compare. What color will be Tate's favorite? Will he love to talk? Love art projects? Will he care about his clothes? Will he still be content following around his 3-year-old sister or will he have his own opinion about what we should do? I can't wait to see what Tate has in store for us.

In the meantime, Rowan is three. Really three. The person who came up with the term "terrible twos" never had a three-year-old. If she would only nap, life would be better for all of us.