Vivian is 17 months old today. It's probably the last time or close to the last time that I will mention her age in months. In 31 days, we'll say she is a year and a half. And from there on, it will be years, fractions, and approximations thereof - almost two, three and a quarter, etc.
About a year ago, we were at a beach in Florida. Now we are at South Padre Island. The intervening 13 months have flown by. The 4 month-old infant is now a 17 month old person.
She walks on the beach.
And plays with balls and says "ba".
And points to birds (and kites) in the sky and says "bir".
And to fishes and says "thissies".
And collects shells.
And piles wet sand on her mom.
And strolls in the ankle deep waters of the Texas gulf coast.
And sports a tan.
And cries when her cousins leave the beach to head out for a dolphin watching tour.
And has a strong preference for ice-cream sandwiches and ice.
And loves out-door showers...
I have a hard time remembering life without Vivian. But we have our lapses. Jo and Greta and I were out swimming in the gulf on the other side of a submerged sandbar today. Carol and Vivian were on the beach. After a bit, I turned to look for Vivian and said: "Wonder how the girl is doing". Jo said "What girl?". I said "Ours". And she said "Oops - I forgot".
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