Today was Adam's fifteen month well baby appointment... the day before he turned 16 months! (he's already been in once before since turning one, to catch up on shots.) He's 32 inches long (75th percentile) and almost 22 pounds (25th percentile.) Head in the 90th. SURPRISE. I guess that settles the question of who's the father! The doctor pronounced him right on track for all of the milestones, and confirmed that yes, it's normal for him to be so ding dang naughty.
This morning he had a nuclear melt down when I wouldn't let him eat Ellie's hair bands, or smack her with a hair brush. And as I watched him scream and leak snot and tears everywhere I thought to myself "[swear swear swear redacted] this is the terrible twos. They start before two, and they're starting now." I remember this with Ellie - two wasn't THAT bad. Eighteen months was terrible because she couldn't talk as much, but she definitely had wants and desires and the lung capacity to ruin my life if I didn't give them to her. And it's not like having an infant where I could give him something to distract him. There was nothing he wanted but to eat hair bands and brain his sister. I know, I am a mean, mean, mommy. The doctor (who has two young kids) joked that 15-18 months is her least favorite time. I suspect it might be mine as well.
But otherwise, he's a pretty good little dude. She confirmed that he's right on track with the talking, and was impressed that he can feed himself with a fork. How different my kids are - Ellie was stringing a few words together at a time by now, but she didn't master a fork until she was almost two. They are each wonderful and lovable and horrible in their own ways!
This afternoon we're having some friends over to hang out. Lots of kiddos expected, so this time I am getting smart and stripping Ellie's room. Last time the little tornadoes dumped out absolutely EVERYTHING. They didn't play with their items, they just threw blocks and plastic food and stuffed animals all over the house. Wont' be making that mistake again!