You are a whopping eighteen months old already. Even if I didn't know it myself, the season change seems to be reminding me of how quickly time moves. I will always enjoy how your birthday is the beginning of Spring because it's pleasant to mark time in conjunction with the season changes of North Carolina.
Our early fall has been filled with camping trips to Jordan Lake. Around the campsite, you like to tidy up by mowing the pine straw and relocating rocks. The camping experience has changed with you in the picture. As always, you are independent and drawn to dangerous situations like investigating the fire pit and turning the knob on the propane tank. If not being watched at all times, you will wander off into the woods or down the road in search of new sticks, rocks and often, garbage. We always leave our campsite cleaner than we found it thanks to you.
One of our campsites had a marked path down to a private beach along the lake. You were free to roam up and down the sands pointing at the different debris that had washed ashore. Sticks seemed to be your favorite find. Sometimes it is pointless to take toys to the beach, although you always love a simple bucket and shovel. But you often abandon everything in search of adventure. Then one of your mean parents chases after you, cutting your quest short again.
This is your reaction to being told not to do something. We see this face a lot. I admit, it makes me laugh. Of course, I hate seeing you so unhappy, but I find it amusing that the simplest things can bring your world crashing down. Like both of your parents, you hate being told what not to do. To get back at us, you have mastered the art of fake crying. It sounds like a machine gun, a very fake machine gun that fires at the utterance of the word "no" that is.