Iris is sixteen months old.
Lots and lots and lots of words have been added to Stinkerbell's vocabulary. "Where arrre you?" Is among my favorites. Also "W, X, Y...." Which is done in typical ABC singsong speak. She can parrot just about anything she hears, which is mostly good. Mostly.
The world is Iris' cell-phone. Remote control, banana, (seriously, no joke) Duplo block, empty toilet paper roll all get held up to her ear with a "Hellwo"?
Most of our pictures this time around were of her backside. "Iris, look at Mama!" I would say, and she would giggle and turn and look the other way. Is this a sign of things to come?
Iris is a delicious infusion of both of her brothers. She loves coloring and music and dancing and is sweet like Ezra...and has the daredevil personality, and the "I'll try anything once" attitude of Avery. Calm and cuddly, fiery and feisty. Iris brings something we haven't had over here in the House of Blue though: Iris is definitely a girly girly GIRLY girl. Bracelets and bows and ribbons and tutus... "pretty" has become one of her favorite words. The boys love it. (Daddy picked out Iris' first walking shoes...a pink pair of Mary-Janes...studded with flowers.) Okay, I don't mind either.
Sometimes, when she lets me cuddle her and I can feel her breathing slow down and her eyes begin to flutter shut, I take it all in slowly...as slowly and surely as I can, as if in some strange way I can trick time- I can draw it out- and perhaps make it stop for just a moment...or two. I squeeze her a little tighter. I smell her delicious baby hair. I whisper dreams that I have for her, for me, for all of us. I stroke her smooth soft skin and tell her I love her. That I am so grateful for her. I hope as she sleeps and dreams she hears my little whisperings, always.