You are so funny. Your personality is emerging more and more each day. You are expressing your likes and dislikes. You are wanting to be more independent.
Tonight I sat watching you "eat" your dinner. Which entailed you rattling together a spoon and your baby fork, randomly stabbing them onto your tray. I tried to feed you with the spoon, but you insisted on holding it. So I sat with you, covered in potatoes and applesauce, and eventually decided to feed you with my hands out of a lack of alternative options. After a few minutes, I looked down at my shirt, covered in splatters of your food, and my hands, coated with potato paste and apple chunks and had to laugh.
You, my sweet love, are funny.