1 Year 8 Months

Dear North,

I am convinced you are Mister McGoo. You always seem to be walking on the brink of certain painful injury and are saved just in the nick of time. It's not due to blindness, as is the case of McGoo. Rather, you just cannot stop yourself from exploring all things dangerous. I know I've written about this before, but it's only getting worse as you gain confidence in your climbing abilities and electrical knowledge. Meanwhile, your dad and I stand guard beside you, attempting to catch you when you fall and keep you from electrocuting yourself. That's our job now and for a long time to come.

You spend a good amount of time with dad in the garage these days too, sorting bins and playing with the tape measure. Maybe that explains your recent pastimes like hammering on the sliding glass doors and taking a screwdriver to your train. You imitate everything you see us doing, which makes you somewhat of a mirror. It's terrifying really and means we have to start acting appropriately while driving.

Because you are a parrot, language is improving slowly but surely. You can say dada, mama, green, meow, daddy, baby. Those last 2 just came out this weekend and we've been practicing other "y" ending words ever since. Believe me when I say, your father would happily sit for hours listening to you say "da dee" over and over again. He would melt into a puddle each time too.

Between you and me, on the weekends, your dad has been dressing you in flannel shirts to compliment his own color palette of the day. On Saturday, you both wore red flannel and on Sunday, the hue was blue. It's pretty much the cutest thing I've ever seen.

And now, some pictures!

"Are you trying to trick me into eating vegetables again?"

"Alright I'll eat it, but don't try any funny stuff. I've got my eye on you."

Any guesses on what the cameraman is wearing?