Adventure.

If I could use one word to describe the last 18 months of our life, I would define it as “adventure.” Each day brings new challenges and joy, but mainly, it’s adventurous. Just 18 short months ago, I gave birth to a little firecracker and the pictures of him above are so him. Whether he’s playing non-stop in the sweltering heat (just flushed, not burned!) or falling face-first into the pavement, he usually winds up completely exhausted at the end of the night (or at least we do).

I can hardly believe that he is now officially closer to being two than he is to being a one-year-old. He is a handful and sometimes two handfuls. He is just pure chaos. And we {mostly} wouldn’t have it any other way.

He has two emotions – extreme happiness or severe angst. There is no in-between. He has been like this since in the womb, so this should come as no surprise.

He is a snuggler. I love when he just collapses against your chest, places his arms at his sides, and he just rests. Even if just for thirty seconds. 

He has recently taken to blowing raspberries on our shoulders and arms. He loves the sound and works hard for a laugh.

He is strongly opinionated. (And that just might be the understatement of the year…) He has joined parades numerous times, clearly believing he is supposed to be there. He hates leaving the park and hates to have his diaper changed. When he does or doesn’t want to do something, despite not having all the words, he’ll tell you.

Speaking of language, I’m 99% sure he asked, “Wat dat?” the other day in the kitchen. I can hardly wait for that inquisitive asking stage to begin.

He does not like when someone new enters our home. He inevitably believes they are coming to take him or {gasp} babysit him. But when they leave? He sobs as the door closes – like some long-lost friend has left.

He mimics his brother (which includes stealing the exact cars Charlie loves and following him into timeout). 

His hair is ridiculously awesome and has lightened up considerably. 

He eats. And eats. And eats. Yet still wears size 12 month shorts.

Messy is his middle name.

He is Jack.

And I couldn’t have imagined the last 18 months without him.