Aurick, you turned eighteen months on the seventh of April.

We had a stomach virus go through the house this month that you, fortunately, never caught! I don’t know how we managed that, but I’m very glad you didn’t get it, because I haven’t the slightest idea how to handle a vomiting toddler, and I could imagine that the whole experience would have upset you very much. Plus I was sick myself, which only complicated things. But you, Daddy, and Beatrice never caught it. The rest of us were not so lucky.

I have a picture of you in the high chair. I had left you with Ephraim, asking him to feed you your yogurt. When I came back, he had just handed you the spoon, and you were gleefully feeding yourself huge globs of yogurt, getting half of it (or more) on the tray and your face in the process. You did certainly love to do things yourself. This was a brief period where you really loved yogurt. It didn’t last too long.

I cut your hair this month. I just used the clippers like I do for everyone else. You did great with the whole process. Having your hair cut short made you look so much older!

The weather continued to get warmer, and you continued to love being outdoors.

In preparation for the new baby, I set up our large playpen for you and bought several toys. You were okay with this setup for a little while, but after a couple of weeks, rather than acclimating to the playpen, you began to really despise it. This is the opposite of what usually happens with independent playtime, but then again, you are Mr. Contrary. We did get a little bit of time out of it, but not what I had hoped.

Your naps schedule hovered between one nap and two. Two nap days were glorious because you could be really, really difficult sometimes, and that gave us (and you) a break that we all still apparently needed!

You became the official youngest Kransling to learn to blow out candles. And that was the last time I was able to leave a candle burning on the coffee table. Because along you’d come, and–poof! Blow it right out. You were very good at it.

You did not talk at all–not at all, if I remember correctly–except for shaking your head. You would sing, though. You liked to sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and “Old MacDonald” and “One Little Finger”, but rarely would you do it so that other people could see. Mr. Contrary, as usual.