Sixty months

Sixty months

David is worried about getting older because he’s worried that, when he grows up, he’ll like hot sauce and football. He sees how his father and his father’s friends consume hot sauce and football and so it seems inevitable that eventually his weekends will be full of Sriracha and shouting, “COME ON! THAT WAS HOLDING!” And yet, that didn’t keep

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Forty-eight months

I started a draft of this post back in June, because I figured that’d give me enough time to create a snapshot of David, my biggest boy. Since then I’ve been procrastinating and now this post is a whole month late. It’s because it took me that long to realize the task is impossible; a personality can never be

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Twenty-one months

David thought I was boring before, but even he wasn’t prepared for the level of lethargy I’ve reached after 37 weeks of pregnancy. The only games I want to play are “let’s lay on the bed and pretend to sleep” and “go to Starbucks and get Mama a Java Chip Frappuccino.” David will play “sleeping” for

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Twenty months

David is 20 months old. Twenty months. It’s a milestone I never thought we’d reach because, even though these months are flying, now that I’m pregnant I count my life in weeks. David will be about 21 and a half months when Baby Krieger gets here, which, now that he’s 20 months, sounds so soon.

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Nineteen months

This month was a big month for David. It was maybe, in a toddler’s economy, the biggest month. This month, David met Elmo. I’m not sure how or when he saw Elmo for the first time, all I know is that suddenly David started asking for Elmo. This might also be a good time to

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Eighteen months

The funny thing about these updates is that the tone is totally set by the week the update happens to fall on. For example, this month has been amazing. Then last week, David started growing fangs. Some people call them incisors, but these are fangs. All these teeth? They aren’t worth it. Not one bit.

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Seventeen months

This is the difference between a baby and a toddler. When you have a baby, and the baby falls a few inches off the couch, you have a panic attack, call your husband in tears, and write a blog about it. When you have a toddler and the toddler smacks his head into a cinder

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Sixteen months

December has been hard on David. Balls, by far, are his favorite toy, and all December he’s been told that he can’t touch the balls that are glittery, shiny, lit up, made of glass and hung on trees at his eye level. He’s broken two ornaments so far. Neither of them were ours because David

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