Letter To Lacey: Nineteen Months.

y beautiful little girl. I love you.

I love the way you smile at me, in that knowing way. I love that you laugh, at yourself and at us. I love that you drop your bottom lip, in such a drama-queen type way, just so you can get what you want. I love every little bit about you.

You’re as smart as can be. Copying everything we say, or do. You like to be my little shadow. You like to have your hair blowdried, put {pretend} make up on and vacuum the floor just because it’s what your Mummy does.

You call me Mummy now. Oh, I melt. I’m a puddle of gooey-ness. It’s too cute. When I ask you to sing me a song, you sing the Mummy song. Singing Mummy, Mummy, Mummy over and over again in your little sing-song voice. Melt.

You love dancing, still. You want to be outside all the time. You’ll grab your shoes and wait by the door, trying to edge your way out. And then when you’re out, you’re a little social butterfly. A little heeey to each person that passes you by, and then a byyye not long after.

You run and jump everywhere you go. You’re a little daredevil. It’s no use us taking a pram anywhere with us. You want to walk everywhere, and you manage to do so for long times too.

You can smell a pen a mile away. You sniff them out and then draw. You contemplate your masterpiece by putting your finger to your lip and saying Ummmm, and then you draw. Sometimes you get so into it that you’ll accidentally draw on the couch. Our poor white couch.

My favourite time with you is when you wake up. You’ll lie in bed calling out Muuuuummmy and then I run down to give you cuddles and kisses, and we laugh together. You’ll wrap your little arms around my neck and kiss me back.

Happy Nineteen months my little Lacey Mae. You are the sunshine of my life. xx

Note: That image is a photo of a photo so that’s why it’s a bit weird.