I honestly don't know where the time is going. First of all, I'm sitting down to write Colt's 18 month update. And secondly, he's actually almost 19 months old. Somebody get this lady a calendar.

My tardiness in bringing you Master Colt's 18 month entry is easily blamed on the people who schedule appointments at his Pediatrician's office. Our first several well-child checkups with them were within a day or two of whatever milestone required a visit, i.e. birth, 3 months old, 6 months old, etc. And for some silly reason like "the holidays", his 18 month mark (December 18th) came and went and his appointment was actually today. Meh. Close enough.

They did all the usual stuff, and his height (32.6 inches – 50th percentile) and weight (24 pounds – 25th percentile) stats reinforced for the umpteenth time that the Hood is strong with this one. Tall. Thin. Some people have all the luck.


We answered all the developmental questions which - for some reason - make me chuckle. It might be because we just don't know that many other babies. So we don't know what he does that's "normal" and what he does that's completely weird. Does your child like climbing on things? Does your child ever use his index finger to point, to ask for something? Or to indicate interest in something?

Colt passed with flying colors on everything except talking. Still no real talking. But he's become much more responsive even in the last few weeks, meaning he listens when I tell him we SIT on the couch – not jump/stand/run or when I ask him to bring me something or pick up his milk cup. I don't think talking is too far away. And he's become a master pointer. His little index finger can indicate anything from "more Cheerios, please" to "turn out the light, I'm ready to go night-night".

PC290043_edit PC290044_edit


He's also started to connect some dots that have really impressed me. He knows that when he's done with his drink cup it goes back in the fridge – and he'll put it there. Before he could really understand what was going on, we would carry him from room to room when we needed to change his diaper or feed him supper or brush his teeth. But now we talk about what we're doing and he usually leads the way. This has been really impressive in the diaper arena. Just this week he's started being aware of dirty diapers. As soon as he has a dirty diaper, he points to it and then heads to his room, knowing he needs to be changed. I know this is such a baby step as far as potty training, but I've decided to take it as a good sign, nonetheless.

Our little guy is developing a sense of humor, which cracks me up. He is pretty ticklish and thinks everyone else is, too. He's a little rough (more pinching than actual tickling), but tickles our bellies when we're sitting on the couch or sneaks up behind me when I'm washing dishes and tickles my toes or my sides. He thinks it's HILARIOUS. He also tries to "trick" me sometimes with his shape-sorting game. The star shape is slightly smaller than the circle shape so it fits into the round hole (intended for the circle). He knows which shapes go where as he has taken them in and out about 700 times, but he just loves to put the star in the round hole, then look up at me and laugh and laugh. You got me!

He has also started doing this little smirk that is eerily reminiscent of one Mr. Tom Martin. Always up to something!


Another favorite joke is hiding. You all remember the cabinet. Well, he's recently discovered that he fits inside the cabinet! Funny, right!? Actually - yes.

The *thud* of the door closing gets me every time.


122709 122_edit

At his checkup today, he had to get a few shots. In the past, shots have been a very small deal. He always cried a little, but was over it within minutes. Not today. Today he was old enough to hate us for making him get shots. And he made the most of it. In all fairness, his mother made his appointment at lunch time, second only to naptime as the worst time of day to disrupt the schedule of a toddler and subject him to things like SHOTS. Oh man. So we got through the measurements and the developmental questions and the ear-inspecting and the heart-listening, and it was really pushing lunch time. Then came the icing on the cake. And I was the lucky one who got to hold his arms to his chest so he didn't flail around and make it worse. So I'm as guilty as anyone. And he didn't let me forget it. We drove home to feed him a quick lunch so he could make it back to daycare in time for a nap, and he SOBBED the entire way home – pointing to Jeff's car ahead of us on the road. After all, Daddy hadn't held him down while those mean strangers jabbed him in the legs with needles. When we got home, he flat out REFUSED to eat. (Reminder: This kid LOVES to eat.) Jeff had stopped to grab us some lunch, so he wasn't home yet and Colt was all alone with The Mean Lady Who Let Those People Give Him Shots. He alternated between glaring at me and throwing himself on the floor at the door he knew Jeff would be coming through when he came home. He continued the hunger strike until it was time to go back to school, so Jeff delivered an angry, hungry, late-for-his-nap toddler back to his unsuspecting teachers at daycare. Poor little guy.

When I picked him up this afternoon, they let me know that he didn't get much of a nap but had a surprisingly good afternoon. When we got home, it was obvious he hadn't yet found it in his heart to forgive me and we had an encore of the earlier loveliness during which I got desperate enough to indulge his new obsession – the coffeemaker. (By the way Dad, you've created a monster. He points emphatically at the coffeemaker about a hundred times a day.) So I gave in and let him make a cup of coffee. Only then did he agree to eat his supper. Though there was NO WAY he was eating it in his normal highchair. He would only sit in his booster seat – which usually stays in the car for use in restaurants with piss-poor highchairs. Only after I dragged a dining room chair into the den and put on some dinner entertainment (Barney) did he agree to eat a handful of green beans and a few slices of turkey.


P1060006_edit_square P1060008_edit_square

So it's particularly after days like this that I wonder to myself, hmm, I sure know a lot of people with kids 2 or 3 years apart.  What is it about children this age that makes people want to have more? 

But then there's this. This might have something to do with it.



Guess what time it is! (All together now) New Photo Album Time! That's right, Colt Fans, it's time to tie up loose ends in the Colt – 12 to 18 Months album and break ground on the, you guessed it, Colt – 18 to 24 Months album. All past photos are compiled in albums and listed along the right hand side of this page. Some of them go back to the Dark Ages – or our wedding, whatever. But there they are.


If you'd like to receive updates from Mother Hood in your inbox, it's as easy as a click or two RIGHT HERE. No spam or weirdness, just a convenient email reminder when there are updates on the blog.


Last thing, then I promise I'll stop. I discovered some videos I hadn't posted so I threw them up on our YouTube channel. Be sure and check them out, RIGHT HERE

5 thoughts on “18(ish) Months

  1. Nice video. It put a smile on my face this morning. Watching kids learn anything (even that they fit in a cabinet) is so much fun!

  2. Sorry about the coffee monster, wait until I show him how to use a power saw :) Grandpa

  3. It’s official! I have the cutest and most well-behaved/well-adjusted Grandson!!!

  4. He is just precious! Adorable! I can’t believe how fast time really does fly!

    Miss seeing you girl!

  5. Sarah, Your family is BEYOND blessed that you continue these updates–I love the cabinet sequence. FYI: Price had NO vocabulary, NONE AT ALL, until he was 2 years old…his only word was “hot,” signifying everything from stoves to ice cubes to gorgeous Roylane Ray across the street. Returning from Little Rock, as he began leaving age 2 behind, we passed a horse trailer; Price pointed and said, “Eat you hay, horsey”. Needless to say, we were awestruck–he never QUIT talking after that. Dinner time announcement at our house? “Eat you hay, horsey”. Snuggles to all of you!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *