Dear Harper — Month 18

I guess we could say that it's official: You really are a real little person, with a very strong will and knowledge about how to get what you want. How did you figure all that out so fast? Wasn't that you who fell on her face a year ago while trying to sit up? Weren't you the baby who had to be carried everywhere, who couldn't really get very far on her own? Now I can take your clothes off and tell you to go to Daddy in the bathroom for your bath. And you do it. Or when you ceaselessly demand doodie doo at bedtime, I can tell you to go get into bed, buying me an extra 30 seconds to go to the toilet.

So, the nursing. It will obviously be going on until further notice from the management (uh, you), which I've decided isn't a big deal. But there are times when I just don't want to nurse you, so you'll reinforce your pleas — hand sign, saying "doodie doo" — with an affirmative nod. It's like a really unsubtle subliminal message: You want to nurse me. You want to pull out the boob. Doo.Dee.Doo. Whatever, kid. Either you're the next Uri Geller or I'm just a sucker, because it works just about every time.

You took your first trip to Berlin this month. While I was slaving away at a supernerd trade show, you and Daddy saw the sights. You visited the Reichstag, the Brandenburger Gate, the Pergamon Museum (where I'm told you waved to everyone from your borrowed stroller). We also had one day where we all could see Berlin together, so you and Daddy did it all over again for me. When we were at the Reichstag, you were suddenly surrounded by a mass of Asian school girls who wanted to take your picture and to have their picture taken with you. "So cute" was what they kept saying to you. Needless to say, you loved every minute of it.

You are learning more and more words every day. Your repertoire includes baby, mama, mommy, daddy, papa, Lilly, ball and cheese. You also have your own made-up words, like doodie doo and doo doo, which apparently means pee. Speaking of which, you've started to show interest in actually using a toilet, or so we think. We bought you a potty chair, which has been used to transport your doll around. Otherwise, you have peed once on me and once on the carpet and exactly zero times in the potty. You do lead us to your changing table when you need a new diaper, so we are hopeful that the potty will see its fair share of action soon. We just hope that the new couch is spared from any of your bodily fluids. It's a lot to ask for, I know.

You also have your own set of bad-ass dance moves, most of them bearing a likeness to a Maori battle dance. You will dance to just about any kind of music, but I am trying to move your love for Rihanna in a more tasteful direction. You seem to like bluegrass, too, so there is hope.

And since the World Cup is going on now, we are making you watch lots of soccer. Which is fine, but you have made one thing clear: We are not allowed to blow the vuvuzela. You shake your head when we pick it up. Good girl; those things are the world of the devil. The plastic soccer devil.

USA! USA!

Love, Mama

This month's nicknames: Gum Gum, Gummy Bear, Baby Bear, Harper Bear, Boom Boom, Dr. Baby

This month's song: Be OK by Ingrid Michaelson