In order for this post to have it's full effect, I have added a theme song. Please press play as you proceed to the pictures.
My sweet Princess is now 18 whole gigantic months old. She thinks that she is at least 18 years old and can do anything. The funny thing is, she probably can.
She also inherited her father's adventurous spirit, and his complete and total lack of fear.
Which means that instead of quietly playing with toys in the living room while I make dinner, she practices her spy moves.
Nothing is safe any more, and I'm afraid to leave her alone for more than two seconds for fear I will come back and find her hanging from the ceiling.
Princess, you are my little red-headed spitfire. You spend your days finding ways to turn your mother's hair gray as fast as possible. You are the reason I crash into bed completely exhausted at the end of each day. And I'm so glad to have you in my life!
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