I don't know if I completely forgot what it's like to have an 18-month old, or if Tate is just so completely different then Ellie, but maybe a little of both.
In good times, Tate is the sweetest, most gentle, lovable little boy in the WORLD. I can't squeeze him or hug him enough. He is such a little, doughy, cherub. Thinking about him makes me smile. He says a few things (but isn't a big talker yet). Ellie is his best friend and he worships the ground she walks on. He likes to hug her (sometimes too rough), copy her, follow her around constantly, and wear her clothes and shoes. I know...it's a little weird, but apparently very common for younger brothers of sisters (or so I'm told).
In not-so-good times, Tate is a typical toddler. He has his meltdowns. He gets very frustrated and doesn't understand why he can't carry around a sharp kitchen knife, stay in the garage and play with the rake by himself, climb up on the kitchen counter, play in the water faucet for hours, etc. Fortunately, it's easier the second time around because I know everything is a phase that will eventually pass.
It has been way too long since I had professional pictures taken of Tate. We have had to cancel a couple sessions because he had a bad haircut, or is usually too banged up and bruised (poor guy!). I am hoping to get some in the next couple weeks.
