Our little not-so-little, on-the-cusp-of-her-Bat-Mitzvah, basically-an-AARP subscriber baby is 15 months today and I can’t believe how fast time flies. I literally can’t keep up (as evidenced by the silence on BornFriedman) and have lots to share and will unravel some stories in the coming days!

But for now, we celebrate 15 months of Madelyn. She has definitely gone from baby to little girl status. She’s longer, leaner, and the hair — oh the hair! It’s finally growing like a weed and the curls are taking shape. This is going to be fun!

At 15 months, Madelyn…

• Has about 10 teeth. Her molars are almost finished cutting through and if I had my act together, I’d have created Splash Zone signs for her to carry around her body. Anyone who gets near her is bound to get wet. She’s pretty juicy with the drooling, so I’m pretty much over the teething just for that reason alone! Thankfully, she’s not a terrible teether. She doesn’t complain much and she acts pretty normal. No fevers, no weird poops. Just drool. Like, she basically makes a basset hound look as dry as a raisin.
• Runs and trips and gets back up again. Nothing fazes her. Falling is seriously no big whoop. She trips over her own feet all the time and if a toy or a shoe stops her saunter and she takes a dive, she doesn’t even blink. Isn’t it funny how babies are hardly cry babies at all? She’s a tough kid. I’m curious to know where she got that…
• Knows parts of her face! Ask her where her ears are. She’ll be glad to slap them with her hand. Ask her where her head is. She’ll pat it enthusiastically. Ask her where her eyes are. She’ll blink really slow and with determination. Ask her where her mouth is. She usually makes politically incorrect Native American tribal sounds. We’re still working on the nose. She still dones’t know nose. I’m sure her Poppa will have a dirty way to teach her that one. Ahem.
• Enjoys throwing food. Please tell me this is a stage. My dog is going to become obese and my housekeepers are going to become very rich because I seem to be calling them more and more. So, win-win for everyone except mommy. As soon as she starts to throw her food, we take it away, remove her from the high chair, and tell her that eating time is over. We don’t make a big deal, but we don’t ignore this behavior entirely either. However, the absolute lack of remorse and apathy she shows about this consequence makes me very, very, very fearful of her years to come. When does the food throwing stop? Any pieces of advice to share? And why does she not want to eat delicious food that I wish I could eat, but can’t because she made me fat? Oh, the irony!
• Is almost 30 inches tall. I know this because I had to take her to the Van Nuys Entertainment Work Permit office to renew her show biz card (which basically sits dormant, thankyouvermuch casting directors. So all you who ask me how to get your kid to make a million bucks, I don’t know). I had to give her measurements (her bust is still not even pushing 30 and her hips, forget it. Nothin’ there.) and there was a juvenile-looking measuring stick on the wall. She absolutely loved standing against it and looking at the numbers and the colors. She then proceeded to prance around the dreary, institutional-like office waiting area and made sure that everyone paid attention to her. She’d walk up to a dad on his iPhone or a mom tending to her kids and literally do schtick until they gave her the satisfaction of a smile or a “hello.” This kid doesn’t work because she’s not friendly? Please! Anyway, this is what she does everywhere we go. I can’t run in and out of Trader Joe’s because she’s holding me up and putting on a show like she’s queen of the Catskills and our fellow TJ shoppers are old Jewish ladies eating borscht and smoking cigarettes. It’s criminal how much she steals attention. And they give it to her, too! They stop and the coo and they play peek-a-boo and all she needs is a harmonica and tap shoes and she’d be a complete traveling act. Then they eventually walk away and she looks at me with her deep, dark coffee See’s chocolate eyes and bats her Jessica Rabbit eyelashes as if to say, “See, Ma? I got it. Now, take me to the frozen pizzas.”

She fell out of her chair. Anddidn’tevencare…

She just keeps on keepin’ on.