Fall is made for long walks.


Or bike rides if that's the way you roll.

Rosemary, A List:

At 18 months, your height is off the charts and, at this point, doesn't even get a percentile. This means, I suppose, no toddlers are taller than you. Hi Ya! Take that, short babies.

When a kitty is spotted, you run arms outstretched towards it, making smoochy sounds. The kitties, unfortunately, always run in the other direction.

Your hugs are so soft, they just might be criminal.

You have managed in about a week to potty train yourself. You deserve every clap, every "hurrah," and every high-five you get.

You are sweetness personified.

You have a name for Finn now, and it's "Up." Odd, yes, but it works, and good ole Up doesn't seem to mind. When you used to wake up in the morning or after a nap, the first thing out of your mouth would be, "Up?" Okay, maybe it was "Elmo," but once we had the Elmo situation under control, you'd ask, "Up?" meaning, "Is Finn up?" "Up? Up? Up?" "Is life worth living? Will there be oodles of fun in my near future? No? I just have you, parental unit, for entertainment? Oh." Anyway, it's morphed into his name now. I suppose "Finn" is hard to say, and when someone is your whole world, you're going to figure out a way to refer to him as soon as possible.


Nothing is ever too much for you, little girl. It's always, "More."

Smoochies for you, Rosie.