Dear Ava, you’re only 15 (or so) months old but you’ve managed to already pick up some dangerous words.
Because you answer “yep” to everything you’ve affirmed that you
- want to eat.
- are hungry.
- would like a unicorn.
- want to be eaten by a dragon.
That last one is particularly disturbing.
Secondly, your constant assertion that “I want this” is getting kinda tiring. Everything from food, your blanket and my acne medication (which is kinda odd, by the way) is driving me a little bonkers.
But I have to say you make me smile big when you start singing your own songs and dancing to them. Granted every tune is very similar to the “ah-ah-ah-ah” part of the Britney’s “Dance till the world ends” or some such, but I’ll overlook that temporary bad-taste. Surely your daddy will introduce you to Guns-N-Roses and other such epic bands.
Most importantly I love you, and all the spunk, exploration, and mischief that defines you.