Now that Reagan is old enough to play with toys, I've gotten all of Billy's old stuff out. Billy thinks these toys are WAY more fun to play with that his more grown-up toys, go figure. Whenever I get the playmat out, he thinks he should be the one lying on it!
(Sorry, I don't know why the picture is turned this way)
Billy is 23 months old. Hard to believe he's turning 2 already, but then again, he looks like a 3 year old! The speech pathologist inside me is finally starting to relax as Billy starts to talk more and more. My favorites are cookie and doggie (mostly because I'm so happy he can finally make the back sounds). He has really taken an interest in Sam lately. Poor Sam gets sat on often. When I was little, I always wanted a dog big enough for me to sit on; Billy better live it up now because Sam isn't getting any bigger, or younger!
Billy LOVES going to the park. We're trying to enjoy them now since it's going to be too hot to touch the equipment pretty soon! He loves climbing (and scaring mom). He loves being outside in general, especially if that involves rocks. He brings me rock presents all the time. I'm always finding them in the house. His new thing is to lie down in the rocks with all of his blankies and talk or sing to himself.
This is how we found Billy when we checked on him last night. Pretty funny, but I'm not surprised. He loves this pillow. I found it at Ross and when I handed it to him, he wouldn't let go of it.
Reagan is smiling like crazy and even started to laugh, which is super funny, so I laugh, which of course makes her laugh more. It's a crack up. Someday I'll catch it on video and put it up on here.
She is 4 months old and weighs 14.8 lbs and 25" long, moving her up in the ranks on the 'ole growth charts (up to the 72/79th percentiles). The number that cracks me up is her head circumference. The poor girl is in the 94th percentile, following in the steps of her big brother. I've tried to feed her rice cereal a couple of times, but suffice it to say she's not a big fan at this point. Not that I blame her; that stuff is nasty. She's also starting to refuse a bottle . . .