It was around this time that I was worried about Robbie's speaking.
Annie's 18 month appointment is tomorrow.
I can remember sitting in the waiting room for Robster's 18 month appointment, along with a pair of parents I wanted to punch. They were with baby girl Tinsley, or Tenley or Shaw or Georgetown or Chevy or something so very DC pretentious with a notebook of her words to take in to her doctor's appointment.
"Oh, Daddy, supercalifragiliousdiexpialadious"-- put that in the book- that makes 127 words!"
Me (in corner fuming): GRUMBLE GRUMBLE GRUMBLE
But tomorrow-- words are something we don't worry about for little sister.
Words ya'll?
She has them.
Can she temper her toddler tude at all?
Nope.
But words?
She can sing a few lines of Happy Birthday.
Knows the words butterfly, giraffe, and elephant.
Can follow the command of "stand on one leg like a flamingo?"
And ya'll . She repeats everything.
Eve. Ry. Thing.
Be warned.
We've got to get her started on drafting that stump speech.
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