Sunday Afternoon

 Ashton Jack, my baby, is ... 18 months old. He is just bursting with personality. My little buddy is starting to talk, saying, "daddy bye-bye" and "truck" and "neigh" for horse, "apple juice".

 

Today in church he kept turning around and staring at the teenage girls behind him. I heard some giggles and looked to see him blowing kisses to each one of them. And when he blows kisses, it is a full-on smacking, puckered kiss on his hand before he gives it out.

  

 "DAD-DY. DAD-DY"

I am pretty sure this is just the beginning of their fun/fighting together. Mary asked me if we could get Ashton some "boy headbands" so he doesn't keep stealing hers. He takes Mary's baby she so thoughtfully keeps named India Ruby Addy Claire and hugs it to his chest while saying, "MINE. MINE."

 Can you hear the airplane?

 If I had a nickel for the number of times I kiss these cheeks every day, I would have a whole lot of nickels.

She is off to walk through the "forest".