The girls tend to get in snits when they bathe together, so one evening Tessa got her own personal tublet. She thought it was pretty fun, I got to do the dishes, and the baby soup stirred itself.
Tessa is growing up so fast. She is running, in her own direction and according to her own whims. She is climbing up and down stairs, at her own pace. She is using a fork to feed herself, whatever she chooses on her plate. She has opinions about everything: what shoes she wears, which rock to carry home, how she's held, who tickles her knees. She is starting to see the humor in real things, like a book where the turkey consistently wears clothes wrong and always says "oops." She is only missing two teeth (in progress) and her hair is long enough to pin back with a bow (if she'd ever leave it in there). She doesn't like to have her hair brushed or her toes touched or to be left alone in a room. But she is also to an age where I can tell her "I'm going to put the laundry in the washing machine and then I'll be right back. Okay?" And she'll say "okay" and wait. The cat is out of the bag about lollipops (pop), marshmallows (marmo), chocolate (choc), ice cream (i meem), and popsicles (pockle). She's still pretty picky and fickle about food. However, that brain can now comprehend "take a bite of ___ and then you can have ___." Sometimes it's a pretty weird reward system: "have a bite of watermelon and then you can have another kale chip" or "have some sweet potato with cinnamon and then you can have hummus pureed with roasted eggplant." And she follows her sister's every lead, which is sometimes a great thing, sometimes not so great, and sometimes leads to just plain chaos.
