Liv is 20 months old today. The peaceful, content baby that once graced our household with her presence has packed her bags and a demanding, obstinate toddler has moved in. It’s the “terrible two’s” and they are starting four months early. I give her credit…the kid’s theatrical skills are pretty impressive. I keep looking for the little switch on her back, but since I haven’t found it yet, I’m going to assume the mood swings are all her doing.

Don’t get me wrong…she is still the happy, loving, sensitive, compassionate little mama that she’s always been, but when she doesn’t get her way…all hell breaks loose. The upside is that she is learning rather quickly that her tantrums aren’t working, so she gives up and flips her switch before the “oh my god, every mother in this place is staring at me” panic sets in.

She’s been speaking in sentences for almost two months, which is still surreal for me to hear. It sends shivers down my spine when she screams, “No I won’t!” at me because I can close my eyes and picture the 5-year-old drama queen of the future. She has to know where Kade is at all times and exactly what he is doing. She still calls him “bubba,” and I hope she always does.

She may be little (she is barely 21 pounds) but her personality makes up for it. She loves to get dirty, and manages to do so as soon as she steps outside. Now that it’s finally nice, she loves the outdoors. I cannot get her to come inside without a fight. Going down a slide brings her pure joy. She can actually carry a tune (something that did not come from me). She loves her baby dolls and takes a different one to bed with her every night…but not until after we brush it’s teeth, change it’s diaper, rock it, and tuck it in.

When she runs over for some lovin’, I tell her that she gives the best hugs, and she’ll wrap her little arms tightly around my neck and giggle in my ear, and I think to myself…I really mean it. If we all got hugs like that on a daily basis, the world would be a much happier place…