I realized the other day that Little Guy is now one month older than Strong-Willed One was when Kiddlet was born. There are 16 months between my girls; Little Guy hits 17 months tomorrow.
Little Guy takes a lot of my time. He plays very well by himself, but only after I've spent a good 30 minutes or more on the floor with him. And he's in this stage where he needs to be able to look up and see me. As long as I'm in his sight line, he's fine. But if I'm in a different room, he comes looking for me, then fusses and whimpers until I come play with him for a few minutes. It gets old fast. And then there is the time it takes to give bottles, feed, dress and change the little guy. And, of course, clean up after.
The years that the girls were this age are pretty hazy. I honestly don't remember much about how we would pass the days. All I'm clear on is that that is the summer I was taking orders for homemade apple pies. I made dozens of pies that summer, all from scratch. I seriously have no idea how I did that.