Daddy Made Toots.

We're so proud. "Daddy made toots" was Evie's first full subject-verb-noun sentence uttered last night at the dinner table. And I don't even think that Daddy was the culprit- it was Eve. That time, at least.

Eve is changing by leaps and bounds. Almost as much as she's trying to leap. And bound. She has no fear. She climbs her crib, removes items from bookshelves so she can climb them - then gets stuck and yells "UH OH!" until we come in and rescue her. She tosses herself on the floor, then giggles and gets up to do it again. Her head is a mess of bruises all the time. She steals Josie's pajamas before she has a chance to put them on, giggling like a mad-woman the whole time, and runs through the house, hoping to be chased. She actually runs everywhere, now that I think about it. This adorable, tiny little body, just sprinting from place to place. And I'm holding my breath the entire time because at any moment, she's sure to trip or stumble or ram her head into the wall. She's struggling with the last of her molars - she's been a little extra grumpy and unfortunately, Jo sometimes takes the brunt of her ill temper. And we've had a few extra-fun diapers, too. The doctor was able to see that one of the stubborn molars was about half-way in during her 18-month visit - but I can't get in there to get a progress report without losing a finger. Hopefully once they're in, she'll sleep a little better and be all sweetness, again.

She hasn't come out of her daddy phase, yet. I can't look at her, or touch her, or her blankey during the nighttime rituals. It's all Daddy. If he's gone, and she doesn't have a choice, then I will do. But certainly not if "M'Daddy" is an option.

She's talking. A lot. "Look, Look!" When she finishes her cereal. She can identify most animals, and "sing" a few songs. She'll repeat just about anything you ask her to try to say. Or anything she overhears. Like when she was yelling "Farts!" for 20 minutes the other day after Pat bumped his knee or something getting in the car.

She gives kisses, but they have to be done her way. On the lips, not too messy - and no cheeks. If you turn your head so she has to kiss you on the cheek, she'll get mad, grab your face and turn it so she can kiss you on the lips.

No one can make her laugh like her sister. It's one of the most awesome things in the world right now to hear those two playing and laughing together. There is a distinct belly laugh that Josie manages to get out of Eve that no one else can.

I have to admit that Eve has challenged us in ways that I couldn't even imagine over the last 19 months. It hasn't been easy. I have to constantly remind myself that we wouldn't have been given something that we couldn't handle, and that she was sent to us for a reason. To learn to pull patience from places deep down inside, to ask for help, to throw expectations out the window and learn to be present in each day, and to remember that tomorrow is a new one. There are days when I'm not sure I'm going to survive, when I'm pretty sure my eardrums are going to explode and my brains are going to ooze out. But then she says "Look!" and does something miraculous like putting her spoon on top of her head and giving this smirk that only she is capable of - because balancing a spoon on top of your head is the most miraculous thing in the entire world. And then things don't seem so bad. And on those eardrum popping days, I thank God that I went to a particular house party in Winona in January of 1995. I don't know how I would ever do it without you, Chip.