Phew. From 10/52 to 25/52. Fifteen weeks between my last post and this one, and what an insanely wild and beautiful fifteen they've been. And while fifteen photos was a tad excessive, these ten sum of the past three months pretty perfectly.
These weeks were for turning three-years old with all the excitement, ever. They were for celebrating with a space-themed party with the people who love you almost as much as we do, and for celebrating again at The Happiest Place on Earth. May it be known that Disneyland doesn't hold 100% true to that title when there is a toddler in tow. But still, it was a magical time to be Charlie Thornhill. They were weeks full of Wall-E and Hook and all of the dinosaur and space documentaries Netflix provides. They were for learning how to ride your bike and for suddenly wanting to eat as much as an adult.They were for learning math for the first time (may you love it more than every single one of your family members) and for spending day after day in the pool. We're all convinced you're part mermaid now. They were for stacks of books and making all of the bead necklaces your tiny hands could handle. They were for living room campouts and s'mores on the back deck. They were for hiking miles on your own, and for braving the ice-y waters of Lake Tahoe. What would have been torture for most people was absolute magic for you. They were weeks for making an insane amount of pineapple popsicles, and for daytrips and beach trips and redwood trips. You fell in love with "ROCK AND ROLLLL" (any song with drums) and begged for a puppy (and begged some more). You've grown so much in a matter of weeks. You're passionate and strong-willed. You have been since day one, but it's still part of what makes you so simply incredible. You're so very loved, no matter how terribly my blogging schedule says it.
C: "Are you mad?"
Me: "Not at all. Why?"
C: "Your eyes look like you're mad. I mean your eyebrows. They're really mad."
C: "What time is it?"
Me: "Past your bedtime."
C: "Nine o'clock?"
Me: "Past nine o'clock"
C: " BUT MOM. What about nine o'clock?! We NEED nine o'clock!"
I turn on oldies in the car, to which Charlie yells from the backseat,
"THAT IS NOT ROCK AND ROLL."
While walking through the clothing aisle at Target:
C: "Ooooh. Fashionistas."
I must have given her an absolutely bewildered slash slightly upset look because she quickly said,
"Don't worry. I won't say that ever again."