She’s walking now. And she looooooooves it.
These days, our mornings and nights usually consist of her entertaining us with non-stop laps from the living room to the kitchen and back. Kates and I can prepare a whole meal, eat it and clean up the kitchen -- and she‘ll still be going strong. She’s a ball of energy.

She also looooooooves to talk, and never ceases to get Kates and I giggling with her funny sounds and -- non-stop -- gibberish. Sometimes it sound like she’s speaking an alien language; sometimes it sounds like she’s speaking Chinese -- seriously, Chinese. Sometimes it sounds like she’s speaking Ewok (just watch the Ewok scenes in “Return of the Jedi” and you’ll hear what I mean. Seriously). And sometimes we think she’s trying to sing “Dueling Banjos” -- denga deng deng deng deng deng deng deng …
Kates has diligently been teaching her signs, too. Admittedly, I thought it was a crazy idea at first …But the first few times I saw Phoebe communicating at meal times with hand gestures to say “more,” “please,” and “all done” was all I needed to be convinced.
She also lets out a jubilant “Daddy!” that melts my heart every time she sees me.
She loves taking the dish towels and waving them around or pulling them over her head … She has a blanket in her crib now that she cuddles with to fall asleep … She’s also old enough to have toys in her crib, so instead of waking up and crying, Kates and I know she’s awake when we hear her Fischer-Price phone ringing or the sound of one of her barnyard books … She has a couple stuffed animals she’s started to develop a kinship with …
She also has discovered how to throw things. Food. Cups. Her magnetic animals. It drives us crazy sometimes ... But along with that comes learning how to play catch. A couple weeks ago we tossed a squishy ball back and forth for several minutes. Great fun!
She’s reached full explorer mode now, and she isn’t timid about walking down our hallway or climbing up stairs … She also thinks it’s really cool to close doors. So it’s not unusual for her to waddle down our hallway when we’re not paying attention; We’ll hear a pitter patter of her feet on the floor, then the door slams in her room and the houses falls silent … She’s not even a teenager yet and she's already getting good at it.
Most of the time, though, we just close the doors to all of the rooms along our hallway. And the baby-gate blocks our stairway.
With Phoebe, it seems, there’s always some place to go and always something that needs to be done. Sound familiar?

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