18 months.

This one.  She hit the 18 month mark last weekend.  She's talking up a storm, sporting pigtails, and her favorite word is no.  She does like to say Mommy, Daddy, Teagee, Papaw, and bubbles.  She signs really well and picks up new words very easily.  She has a fierce independence, something she has had since she left the womb.  She loves applesauce and meat.  She is in the 50th percentile height and weight.  She's almost got all of her teeth and those stinkin' molars won't let her alone.  Her tantrums are unlike any I have ever seen.  They are powerful and dramatic and sometimes I just have to laugh.  Tantrums are coming more frequently here lately but only because she gets frustrated when we don't understand her immediately or she has to stop doing something she was enjoying.  She loves being outside.  She loves playing with baby dolls.  She loves reading books.  She has a new found affinity for Elmo.

My sweet Kyra Mae has been a challenge.  A test of patience.  A test of motherhood.  I am grateful for it.  I've talked in the past that I tend to run from hard things.  I haven't ran from Kyra.  In fact, I've done quite the opposite. I run to her.  I will continue to run to her no matter how hard it gets.  I love her and she has taught me more in the last 18 months than I could even have imagined.