Monday, August 3, 2009


Being on this side of you imagination is a trip, lil' dude. You are finally getting to the point where you actually play. If I'm in your closet putting away clothes or organizing your chaos, you pat the floor beside you, inviting me to sit. Toys, you say and hand me a prop.

Your fine-motor skills are really developing. You can match where your farm animals and their beds are in the farm by looking at the pictures. You can name all of them except for the pesky sheep. You call him a puppy, but that's OK. And you think most animals moo, and that's also OK. I still think you're as brilliant as the sun.

Help, you sign, when something gets stuck or won't fit right. Yesterday, you had your yellow chicken driving the bus! I kept saying, "but lil' dude, your chicken CANT DRIVE THE BUS!" all dramatic-like, and you laughed and laughed. In your world, anything can happen. Anyone can drive the bus.

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