Little Miss Beatrice is fifteen months old.
She is one big personality in one tiny person. At the moment she is in her room taking her Not Nap, which happens some days as we approach the dreaded two-to-one-nap-transition.
Beatrice has spent the last three weeks or so trying to walk. She meets the challenge with the same determination that she does her talking. Getting up, taking two steps, falling, getting up, taking two steps, falling. Most of the time she laughs when she falls. Very rarely she will cry. But she has developed her stiff-legged marionette walk admirably; she can make it across the Colloquium and down the hallway before stumbling. She’s better at it if she has a toy in her hands. She’s exceptionally better at it if the thing in her hands is some sort of forbidden item, like a writing utensil.
She is a big, big talker. She always has something to say. Of course, you can’t understand anything that she has to say, but your clear bafflement at her monologue doesn’t stop her chattiness. She particularly likes to talk while Daddy is reading the Bible or History at the table. No amount of shushing can deter her, unfortunately. She is a very determined conversationalist. (Unsurprisingly, her sister is the other one who has trouble staying quiet during readings. I imagine that one day they will happily chatter one another’s ears off.)
She’s also a generous giggler; all you have to do is give her a look and she will launch into her signature chipmunk laugh.
Since joining the other kids at the school table (also known as the dining table) she has developed a real love for scribbling on paper. I credit her that even when she finds a stray crayon on the floor she will look for paper upon which she can scribble with it.
I haven’t paid much attention to her teeth, other than noting the fact that they are there. (Sixth child problems.) I think she has six, maybe seven, almost? But her molars are coming through. So far they don’t seem to be giving her much trouble.
She’s suddenly gotten quite fond of her pacifier. It occurred to me the other day that this is (I think?) about the age that Eldore found his finger. She used to barely use it for sleeping, even, really more chewing on it than sucking on it. Now she will hang onto it for hours while she walks or crawls around the house, and there is no going to sleep without it. At least, not that I’ve observed.
I am so, so glad that she has attached to a pacifier and not an appendage. In my experience, getting rid of a pacifier is a piece of cake, while breaking a finger-sucking habit is nearly impossible.
While her naps suffer as we approach the 2-1 Nap Transition, her nights are excellent, and she sleeps 12-13 hours straight. She loves hanging out in her crib, and is usually more content in there than many other locations in the house.
Beadie loves music; I play the Family Folk Songs station from Pandora for her while she does independent play time, or anytime she’s on the fussy side of things. She gets very excited when it turns on, and I’ve heard her sing along to some songs. She also loves to sing The Doxology with us in the mornings, reaching over to hold my hand as soon as we start.
She does not like the accordion, however.