It's amazing how quickly I have forgotten how quickly they grow.
Sometimes it seems that she will never be able to walk by herself and - BOOM!! - here she is running. And jumping. Climbing (on couches, over rocks).
I think that I will never again eat a hot meal, because I will always be spooning some mush or another into her mouth and - BOOM!! - now she is eating with a fork.
It is absolutely amazing to me that 15 months ago she wasn't even born yet. We didn't know if Peanut was a boy or a girl. We didn't know that she would be a music lover down to her soul and would stop (hammertime! in the name of love!) to dance and shake every time she heard a beat. We had no idea that a girl - a little, tiny speck of a girl - could scream so loudly and so shrilly, and all in fun.
15 months ago she wasn't even born, and now she can talk. "Woooooooowwww" was her first word, a breathless, awe-struck word uttered months ago every time we showed her something from her peanut butter sandwich lunch to the moon and stars outside at night. Since then she hasn't stopped talking, from Mama to Dada. Hansa to Nannun (Landon).
She's also a perfect mimic. When we ask where the dog is, she pants, just like our old, tired dog. Ask what a monkey says and the "Ooh ooh, aah ahh" sounds she makes are more convincing almost than the real thing. And her fire truck screeches? Right on cue.
The little Peanut understands so much. She knows when Bjorn is missing, and grunts and whines until I tell her where he is. Then she goes directly there, whether it is in the bathroom or in his room. She knows to head to the tub when I tell her it's time for a bath, and she knows to plop right in front of the TV when Elmo is singing on Sesame Street.
She will grab her shoes - always two of the same kind, never a mismatch - bring them to me and sit on the floor. If I take too long to put them on, she attempts to do it herself, often managing one or two toes in her little Crocs before deciding that that is good enough and toddling off with shoes half off. Then she usually bangs on the back door - a signal to us that she wants to go in her "castle" outside.
Where she will spend 15 minutes trying to climb the wrong way up the slide and the next thirty opening and closing the playground door.
Oh, the easy, carefree joys of being 1.