Creative Camera

When you're starting to feel frazzled and the troops are getting restless, I've got a little tip for you. Dig out the web cam you got for free with your last computer, install the upgrade for the "Create and Share" software so you can use aforementioned camera with your newer operating system. Curse the fact that the video capture portion of the software is not working. Calm again when you realize an almost 4 year old and a 19 month old can be amused for more than enough time with instant snapshots of themselves.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Brabee

Recently Megan has shed some basic baby-talk. I'm no longer Mama. I am Mommy. Dada is gone. Daddy reigns. She sat one day and began to rattle off our names - roll call. She got to herself. She used to refer to herself as baby, but in an attempt to help move her towards certain behaviors (like going to sleep on her own and giving up bottles) we've convinced her she's no longer a baby. We offered up "little girl." Logan said "big girl" and that one stuck.

She started with that. "Mommy. Daddy. Buh Girl. . ."

Then she stopped.

She, working hard to grasp pronouns but not quite getting it right, will also use "Me" in reference to herself, as in "Me go too." We also call her "Meggie" as one of her many nicknames. When she's feeling feisty she'll mimic the moniker as "Mimi."

She began roll call again. "Mommy. Daddy. Mimi. . . "

She stared at Logan. She knows his name. She can say his name. She still won't. She calls him "Brabah" - brother. She began her drill again.

"Mommy. Daddy. Mimi. Brabee."

It clicked. Word endings. Right there. We, all of us except her adored sibling, had the long 'E' sound. She was determined to right that wrong.

He hates the nickname. I got yelled at for using it. He tried to ignore her when she called him repeatedly. I got down to eye level and told him he ought to be happy she's calling him that because it's her special name just for him because she does love him. He bought it. She's the only one permitted to use it. And use it she does -All. The. Time.

This morning she came over to me and smiled brightly. She pointed to herself. She tried to cross her arms over her chest but she rushes it so she gets one arm up and the other already moving to the last sign - she points at me. The only sign any one ever really showed her and she's learned it well: "I love you." She says it as she does it but she can't really get the word "love" out. Instead she does her gesturing and she says "I. You. Mommy!"

I know what she means though. I hug her and I tell her "I love you too, sweetheart."

She's proud of herself for telling me. She starts her signing again. "I. You. Daddy!" she yells even though Daddy is in other end of the house and not hearing her. I tell her Daddy loves her too.

"I. You. Brabee," she says as she signs and it's clear she does with all her heart. I assure her it's mutual.

She smiles one last time before running off to play. "I. You. Choo choo trains." She heads down the hallway, still loving things - her dolls, her Dora collection, her sippy cup. At least we were first though. And at least she can tell us.

Chatterbox

Megan has moved from words and occasional phrases to bigger phrases and actual sentences. The other night during dinner, she began to slide out of the chair. (She's given up on the booster seat, preferring to mimic her brother in the "big" chair.) Before we could say a thing to her about it, she declared very clearly, "I am all done."

Her current favorite word? Come on, the girl is 18 months old. Her favorite word is "No."

Her favorite phrase? "NO FAIR!"

Easser Bunbun

Megan wasn't sure she liked being up close and personal with Santa. She smiled nicely as long as he was a safe distance. When she got close, she threw herself to the ground and kept whispering "No Santa."

We weren't sure what to expect with the Easter Bunny. She's seen the Old Hare in pictures and in inflatable outdoor decorations. I asked if she wanted to go see him for real. She very enthusiastically said yes. "Me go Easser Bunbun," she told us. Logan, however, wanted no part of the Rabbit. He was quite happy to hear we could take Megan the day he was with his grandparents for his sleepover.

The line was short yet very slow. Megan was getting anxious. She wanted down to see her furry friend. When finally released she walked up to him, all smiles, and pointed at him. She said softly, "Easser Bunbun." She gave him high fives. We held off putting her on his lap until the camera gal was ready to do her thing. Megan, kept holding her arms up to the Bunny. We realized later she was asking him to pick her up. I sat her on his lap. She cuddle in. She talked to him. She laughed at him. She rubbed his hands. She looked at the camera and smiled sweetly. She cried when we took her down so the next child could have a turn.

Luckily for Megan, the camera girl had the camera tipped to far down. We needed to take a second set of photos. Megan was more than happy to comply. She climbed up, she snuggled in. She was determined to not deal with the camera if she could avoid it. She’d rather talk to Bunbun. The end result was priceless:



I asked her later if she liked visiting the Easter Bunny. She smiled and nodded. "Easser Bunbun, Me cheese-ah!"

Happy 18

Grandma discovered, quite by accident, that Megan, a whole 18 months old, can "read" her name. Oh, and it's not just her name. She picks out her brother's too. She recognizes both names in the places she's seen them on a regular basis and in places they've never been in before. Write down "M-E-G-A-N" and she points to the word, then herself saying "May-may. Me!" Of course May-may is the closest she comes to saying Megan.

Apparently she can also count to three in Spanish. Thanks to Dora books and the occasional Dora and/or Diego show, she knows a few other Spanish words. Her most favorite is "Nose-chiz" (as in buenas noches - good night.)

She's fascinated by the bathroom. She's fascinated by her brother's underwear. To keep her from stealing his briefs and trying to wear them over her clothes, we bought her own. She's sat on the potty. She's used it a few times - with no regular consistancy. This morning the three of us chatted about the potty. Logan told her the big preschooler secret - they all use the potty. No diapers. Megan stared at him with a look of total awe. Then she said, with complete conviction, "No diapah. Unnerwear." I'm really ok with the matra sinking in and taking hold.

Lately it's become clear that Megan understands the vast majority of what is said *to* her. We've begun to try to explain things to her in light of the fact. Last night I talked to her about going to sleep on her own in the crib at night the way she does for naps. She stared at me and said simply "No. Rock rock chair."

"But Megan, do you see Logan rocked to sleep?" She shook her head. "That's because he's a big kid, right? He goes to sleep on his own in his room."

She stared for a moment. Then she smiled, a big, wide, I'll show you smile. "Me," she said patting her chest. "Baby. No big dirl. Baby. Rock rock chair."

Conversing

Megan has been talking for quite a while. Every day the words get clearer. The phrases a bit more sophisticated.

And now, we've had our first real conversation. We were at Grandma and Papa's house for a visit. I was sitting on the floor in one room as we ate our lunches. Megan pulled on my hand. "Mama up," she said over and over until I gave in. "Hand," she commanded. She took mine and led me the living room, releasing me so she could pound on the front door.

"Out door? Mama, play."

I told her no. "It's cold, you don't have your coat."

"I do!" she protested with a fierce nod of her head.

"You do? It's not on you," I said and then tried to figure out what to distract with her.

"Right there! On chair," she said in return. She marched over to the right spot and started to drag our coats to the ground. She handed me mine with a coy smile, "Flip-roo," She commanded. And that, would be Megan's preschool* inspired way to say "Put that coat on!"

*Megan is very much about having or doing whatever Logan has/does. Prime example -- getting her coat on herself. She watches him put his jacket on the way they do in school. Lie the coat on the floor spread open. The collar near your feet. You bend down, slip each hand in the corresponding coat arm. Then 1, 2, flippa-roo, you bring your arms up over your head, letting the coat slide into place as you do. She attempts to follow his lead. Sometimes she gets it right. Other times she gets her coat on backwards. She's gotten it on upside down once or twice also. Not that she cares. She's incredibly proud of being able to do it herself to the point that she insists on going as is.

There are some battles worth fighting Meg on, and others you're just better off walking away from.

She types, she clicks, she cleans!

Megan has been exposed to the computer from early on. She watches her mother use. She watches her father use it. She watches her brother use it. She watches her grandparents use it. From the time she could sit up and reach the keyboard, she wanted to get in on the game.

At 17-months old, she's developed a taste for a few particular games and has moved from mere observer to actual player. At the Sesame Street web site and the Fisher Price web site, for example, there are games that require only a keystroke to trigger the next action. She knows this and she complies - pressing the space bar or a letter key not to hard but not to soft.

There are other games that require some point and click to move the game ahead. She can seem to point but does not have the control to click. We help her out instead. Today we played an animal sounds game featuring her beloved Little People. Two animals, one sound. She has to decide which animal made the noise. She points and says the animals name if she can. She gets it right 9 times out of 10.

From there we moved on to an alphabet game. I knew she could do this on her own even though she'd never seen it before - it was simple keystroke advancement. The title screen came up and she started to clap with her whole body (The hands go, the feet kick together, the knees even meet once and a while.) "A! B! C!" she yelled and pointed to the three letters dancing on our screen. She made her way through all 26 letter screens and was delighted at the end to learn she could trigger the alphabet song over and over and over and over and over by smacking the space bar repeatedly.

And as fun as this is, the real computer coup came last week. Meg perched herself upon Logan's desk chair, pointed to his computer monitor and said "TV. On." Logan agreed to let her use it.

I loaded up the Thomas game he had first developed some degree of mouse control with. Megan loves that blue, smiling train now too. She's taken to hugging Logan's collection when she can. She clapped when the game started. She said the engine's names as they moved through the opening sequence.

Our first task was to wash Thomas. She put her hand on the mouse and I helped her move it to the sponge. I clicked for her. Once you've clicked on it, the cursor remains a sponge until you've cleaned the entire engine. I showed Meg this and let her go.

She did it all herself.

All of it.

And she didn't even see what the big fuss was. I clapped for her when she was done. I told her brother. She just pulled for my hand, placed the mouse in it and said "More."

Essence of Meg

Once in a blue moon I manage to capture a moment on film that captures the soul of a person. In the set of photos I picked up this afternoon, I found one of those photos waiting for me. Everyone that *really* knows Megan and has seen this picture has all said the same thing -- "That is just so Meg. That picture truly conveys her little personality all in one grin."

We had been painting (which is fairly obvious) and Megan, as is her way, really got into her project. She had painted in just her diaper. I forget why but I was about to change her when Logan asked for the art box. It was easier to start her already half-undressed than give her new clothes to drench in paint. When we were done, as is also our custom, Megan was headed for a bath. I was gathering up towels and bubbles while she, it turns out, was running away and hiding. I heard her giggle. I grabbed the camera that was still nearby -- I had photographed Logan's painting with paint bubbles, and I found her. She was in Logan's room, palms up as they are when she asks her favorite question, "Where go?"

"Where did what go? What are you looking for?" I asked her.

She pointed to herself and said "Where baby?"

She saw the camera. She gave me a grin and a "cheese!" I put the camera down and told her I liked the "where go" face better than the cheesey smile. So she did it for me - she posed...and in that moment of cooperation I captured this:

A girl and her art

Megan has taken to art projects. She loves it. She drags down the art supply box and runs to her chair laughing and yelling "colors!" Like any good artist sometimes, Meg gets a bit too into her art project. Like this:

Megish Mannerisms

Miss Megan Rose is quite expressive.

If she can't find something, she pulls her elbows in tight to her body then holds her palms up to the sky. "Air go?" she asks.

If she thinks someone (usually herself) is being silly, she squints her eyes and wrinkles up her nose.

If she is upset, she's been known to pout a bit and rub her eyes free of 'tears.'

If she's happy, she giggles and wiggles.

If she's feeling shy, she buries her head into your shoulder and peaks around from a spot of security.

If she's feeling defiant, she'll put her hand son her hips and glare at you.

If she's feeling like a little mischief, she'll grin impishly and race off giggling.

Why yes!

This toddler age of not quite baby-not quite kid brings with it an array of entertaining and sometimes challenging quirks. For one, developing language skills can sometimes lead to great frustration on the part of all invovled in the attempted conversation.

Megan, although sometimes prone to the frustrated outburst (aka great big, throw myself to the ground and scream to get my way tantrum) has seemed to figure out a loop hole for herself. She adeptly mixes the words she can say with gestures as a means to communicate. Sometimes this means she'll say "Dora!" as she drags you by the hand to the refridgerator. This, we've come to learn, means "Get me that Yumster Yogurt now please. I'd like to eat it/paint with it/wear it/attempt to feed it to the dog."

A variation on this theme is when she opens the refridgerator door herself chanting "Dada!" over and over. This means she's about to emerge with a container of the blueberry Dannon yogurt Daddy eats on a regular basis. She will hand it to you as she requests a spoon - and occasionally her bib. Both by name.

Most recently she's mastered the nod. Not the head nod, mind you. She really has more of a full-body nod. Her head moves up and down vigorously as she bops and sways in time with the imaginary beat. The first time it was thought conicidence. The second time we knew she was clearly understanding our question and responding in the affirmative.

For example, "Megan? Do you want to take your bath now?" we'll ask.

Full body nod complete with wide, nearly toothless grin. "BATH! BATH!" she yells afterwards as she takes off down the hallway. By the time we catch-up to her (hey, we have to stop to get the towel!) she's standing outside the tub chanting "Wah-wah! Wah-wah! Bubble!" (Water, water, bubbles.)

"Megan, do you want to color?"

Big grin and lots of nodding. When you pull out the box of crayons, she starts to mutter "ca-her" (colors) and "paper."

New adventures

Last year when it snowed, Megan was too little to know what was happening. By the last snow fall she was newly sitting up on her own. She wasn't crawling let alone walking. She hated the snow. She hated the cold. This year, so far, is different. She loved it. She adored sledding. She loved playing. She didn't even seem to mind getting stuck knee deep in snow.

I love this photo! Even though you can't see her face, you can get the idea she's enjoying some great exploration of a new 'world.'

Luck? Maybe.

Megan idolizes her big brother. It's clear in the way she watches him. It's clear in the way she seeks him out as soon as she opens her eyes each day. She wants to do what he does and have what he has.

Lately this includes the bathroom. At three-years old, Logan is a full-time potty users. Megan, at a mere 14.5 months, is full-time diapers. Yet, the bathroom intrigues her.

Last night, with Logan away at his sleepover, Megan was the only little person in the house to be dotted on. I was getting her ready for her bath and did what we usually do. I sat her on the closed toilet seat to remove her shoes and socks. She started to giggle and pound the seat appearing between her legs.

"Pahee! Pahee! Pahee!" she chanted.

Oh what the heck. Once she was undressed I asked her if she wanted to sit on the potty. She clapped. She laughed and squeaked in that way she does when her excitement is too much to contain. I put her on and she yelled loudly for Daddy to come see her being such a big girl.

This morning, with Daddy on his way for a business trip and Logan still at his sleepover, it's just Meg and Mom. I started to dress her but once she was down to just the diaper she started to run and press down the top of her Pamper waistband. "Diap. No diap," she said.

"You want your diaper off?" I asked her. She giggled and pushed down again. "Well Megan Rose, there is no way you're going without one unless you can pee on the potty."

It's all she needed to hear. She ran down the hall yelling potty. When she got to the bathroom she was working hard at getting the diaper off. I helped her and she started to pound on the potty seat. Well, I'm no fool. I'm not about to stand in the way of a child wanting to use the toilet. I put her up on it once again. She stared down into the bowl studying it intently.

"Ok, Meg, now that you're there, you have to pee." I told her more as a way to fill the time than anything else.

"Pee," she said. And she did. She looked up at me as if she wasn't quite sure what had happened. I clapped. I fussed. I mean really, the boy is out of diapers less than a full year and although we've not been permitted to fuss over him in the bathroom for months, it's still a bit of a reflex. She clapped to as she does whenever every else does.

"Paba," she said and twisted to glance at the space she knew the toliet paper would be waiting in. I handed her a bit and she tossed it in the bowl.

I took her off the seat and showed her how to flush. "Bye bye!" she said as she waved into the bowl. I held her up to the sink and gave her a squirt of Logan's "Kandoo" hand-soap. "Rub rub," she dutifully told herself as she rubbed her hands under water. I showed her how to dry her hands on the towel and diapered her back up.

We came back down the hall to play some but Megan was still into potty use. She yelled for it. She cried. She took my hand and yanked on my arm urging me to follow her. I did, right back to the bathroom. She dropped my hand so she could pound on the seat and chant. I put her back up on it.

"Paba," she commanded and tried to reach the roll of paper herself.

"Now, Megan Rose, you don't get to use toilet paper unless you've peed in the potty," I told her.

"Pee," she said matter-of-factly. Then she focused. She stared straight ahead and seemed to be processing something or other in that quick little mind of hers. I heard it - the sound of fluid hitting fluid. "Pee," she repeated as she smiled at me. "Paba."

I handed her a square, I mean really, who can argue with that.

I don't expect us to be a diaper free house any time soon, but frankly, I'm not about to discourage this new obsession of Megan's.

Meg communicates

Just moments ago, 14-month old Megan slid her way down the single step into the office/sunroom/playroom. She's still clad in her footy-pajamas and the corduroy jacket she's been insisting on the last few days. She padded over to the bookshelf we keep art supplies and toys on. She rifled through.

CRASH!

"Oh no," says the little sprite in a soft voice.

I turn my head to find her seated on the floor putting pre-cut foam stickers back into their bucket one at a time. It's as if she hopes I won't notice if she can get them back in there. Of course, she'd be making more progress with her clean up if she didn't stop to examine each one carefully and try to pull back the white paper covering the sticky side before putting in the bucket. And of course, removing each piece to check it out a second time isn't helping matters either.

She caught me watching her. She smiled as she held a foam sticker shaped like a dump truck.

"Mess," she said and returned to her clean-up.

Well, at least she's honest.

A bit of Meg

Megan has been memorizing her favorite book. It's a boardbook of common nursery rhymes. She'll plop herself on your lap, flip a few pages and point to the picture saying "Row, Row, Bow" - as in Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Or she'll flip to the "This Little Piggy" rhyme and tell me "Toe!" She knows most of the book now.
----

She loves to dance. And not just bop up and down in a sort of squat and pop dance move her brother used to do when he was just over a year. No, Megan really dances. She sways. She twirls. She gets her shoulders and her head invovled. Most any music will do it, but she seems a fan of classic rock and oldies.

---

Logan likes to ask "How's your day?" a lot. It started when various adults in his young world would ask him several times during his waking hours. He'd reply and then ask. Grandma started asking Meg this summer. Logan asks Meg. Megan now answers.

"So Megan, how's your day?"
"How day?"

-----

Silly Meg

Our still relatively new computer has Windows XP Media edition. One of our fancy little extras that accompanies this verison of windows is the "Dancer" program. We can select a number of 3-D dancers that will come on and perform while you play music. I thought the kids might find it amusing so I put in Logan's favorite CD (a mix of 60s music) and pulled up the dancer. I selected the paperclip dressed as ghost, although he occasionally switches out costumes for other gear.



Right now the ghost is dancing to Sam Cooke's "Everybody Loves to Cha Cha Cha." That's 13-month old Meg's favorite song. She's laughing and shaking her body to the music. She sings along, adding her own lyrics, when she's not giggling at the dancer:

"Cha cha cha BOO!"

Climb Every Mountain

Apparently in one of her many story books, Megan read that if one wishes to climb the highest mountains, one must train hard. She's begun practicing.

First, Megan begins her initial assent: And then she considers just how high up she must go. She pauses and contemplates whether or not to continue:



But fear not! She has a mean, lean cheering machine on her side. "You can do it Megan! YOU CAN DO IT!"


He cheers some more. She climbs some more. Mom takes one last photo of their adventure and then rushes over to hold Megan's hand for the rest of her hike up the mountain top.

Girls night

Logan is at his monthly sleepover with Grandma and Papa and Daddy is away on a business trip. It's just Meg and Mommy. We left Logan around 4pm yesterday afternoon and had the evening into this morning together. Being able to focus just on Megan really highlights all she does.

Megan has been a long-time snuggler, now instead of just doing it, she asks for it. She puts her head down on my shoulder and nestles in. "Ahhh, mama. Nugg," she says. Nugg, being the way she attempts to say snuggle.

She does a lot of things. Recently, Megan had found my diaper bag, dug around in it until she found what she wanted. She came over to me. Threw a diaper my way as she said "Diap!" Then she laid herself down on the floor on her back and held her legs up in the air staring at me expectantly. She does it on a regular basis now, althoug typically the question "Megan, should we get a new diaper for you?" triggers her action. Getting her own diaper, laying down and waiting.

She's feeding herself with a fork. She stabs at her food repeatedly until she gets several pieces up on the fork. She puts the fork in her mouth and pulls off just what she can handle. I hadn't quite noticed her do it the first time and she knew it. She threw the fork down on the tray and clapped loudly until she caught my eye. Then she did it again.

She plays a mean game of hide-and-seek. Last night after we ate we set about to play. I hid on her in her room. She sought me out yelling "BOO!" when she found me. When she finds did, she held up her arms and started to climb up my leg. As soon as she was in my arms she snuggled in. I put her down and told her I was hiding again.

When she entered the room I had selected, she scanned the room with a very serious look on her face. I knew she had found me by the smile that started with her eyes and captured her whole face. She again climbed up on my lap and cuddled. I put her down yet again.

"I'm going to hide again!" I told her. Then I thought about it, we play hide-and-seek often with Logan. This game is how Logan learned to count to 10 before he hit 18 months. I ought to be counting when it's just Meg and I too. "Megan, you stay here and count and then find me! I'll say the numbers for you."

I watched her as I walked briskly from the room. She stood still next to the chair I had hidden behind moments before. "1 - 2 - 3..." I said. When I got to ten Meg let out a big squeal and she started to run towards me. I picked up my pace and jetted down to Logan's room. I sat in the dark out in the middle of the room where I knew she could find me despite lack of light.

First she went to her room. "Nope, I'm not in your room, come find me!" I called to her. She stopped moving. She focused on my voice. I figured she'd placed it when I heard her erupt in laughter. She came running right into her brother's room and to me. "BOO MAMA!" she said and she climbed up once more for a great big, celebratory hug.

She can identify several of her own body parts now. Ask her where her ears are and she covers them both saying something like "air." She can find her head/hair, nose, mouth, teeth, fingers, belly (she beats on like drum chanting bell-lay, bell-lay, ball-lay) and toes. Sometimes she can remember where her eyes are. She knows her hands, which she'll clap gleefully if asked to locate.

She loves to play blocks. She digs deep into the box of MegaBlocks and connects the pieces she gathers. Then she puts on her proverbial destory hat and wrecks her creation. She can sit on a ride-on toy and scoot herself quite a distance. She climbs up and in and out and off of nearly everything in sight.

She's become a true toddler in every sense of the word. The fun has begun.

Miss Mountain Goat

The little one is not without the ability to grey my head. She is barely over the 12-month mark. She's been walking since 9 months old. She's been attempting to climb shortly there after. On Friday, she began to succeed.

I put her down on the ground in our back yard to help Logan locate his baseball. Normally this is a non-issue. Megan will wander behind or she'll find herself something to play with. But Friday was to be different. I heard her giggle. I turned around to see what it was amusing her and I nearly spit my heart out.

Megan Rose was half-way up the big slide of the new swing set.

Not even the ladder (rope ladder actually). Nope, the actual slide.

She did it again today. She's hellbent on making her way up there. She'll decide she needs a hand after repeated attempts to escape up the stand at the bottom of the slide (ON IT!) waiting for you to hold her arm so she can walk herself to the top. She giggles as she goes. Turns herself gracefully at the top, sits and then holds her hand so she can slide down -- only to hop to her feet, get up again on the bottom of the slide and repeat her newest trick. This time I took a picture or two.

She can also get part way up the rock wall of the swing set. Gone are the days poor Logan could have attention and focus in the yard with only one adult home. Give Meg a little bit of slack and she's embracing her inner mountain-goat. Now the only way we can do more than spot Megan's exploits is to get both kids on their respective swings at once, convice Megan that her littel red Coupe is worth riding around in or tricking her into trying to climb the infant slide on the old set -- something she actually can't do right now. Too steep.

Verbality

I guess we can almost call it a sentence -- a 12-month old's sentence.

Megan had a teething biscuit. Tasha wanted it. Megan pushed Tasha's nose away from her yelling "No! No dog! Mine. Mine. Mine!"

Of course since that moment, Megan has handed Tasha the food in question and has placed herself in the small motorized lime green VW Beatle Logan got one Christmas from his aunts. She figured out the gas pedal this morning but can't reach it with enough force to make the car move. Instead she throws her weight back and forth to make it inch forward. She chants "Vava! VavaooommM!" as she does it. Vroom, vroom!

She then calls me to take her out of the car by singing "Maaaaama! Maaaaaaaaa MAAAA!" I lift her up. She hugs me. She sticks her face close to mine and says softly "nose, nose" which is her way to say "Rub noses." Then she points through the large windows at the back of the room that face our yard. Her finger settles in the direction of her new swing.

"Ow Baa" she commands.

I shake my head no. "Megan Rose, it's too cold and too early to go out back. Logan is still sleeping. And you, miss, still have your footy pajamas on."

She giggles. "Brabah ni-ni." (Brother night-night or Brother is sleeping.) She wiggles around to let me know she wants me to put her down. She toddles around the playroom looking for something to amuse herself with. She settles on pulling colored paper from the art box and then working hard to get Logan's toy tools from their plastic case.

I'm thinking being the little sister to a chatterbox preschooler isn't impeding her language development after all. In fact, it seems to help. Logan had a large vocabulary for his age at a year old, but he was still sticking mostly to single word communiques. Megan easily uses as many words but has been combining them into phrases for some time now. Granted the average stranger would not understand much of what she's trying to say, but those of us that spend time with her pick it up easily.