Mea culpa, Avocado Jnr, the phantom author of the last post was correct: Mater and Pater have been remiss in their obligations on keeping your blog up to date. The Mounties are still tracking down the person/persons responsible for the blogpost in question, but in the meantime Pater will debrief on your achievements over the last few months. You ate, you slept, you pooped, now here's the photos and videos...ok, so apparently Mater wants more. Fine. You started talking - mummy, daddy, baby, Elmo, up, please (well actually, peese), hi, bye, and no. Or rather "no, no, no" as in the answer to every question we ask you. Pater can't think where you picked that up from...
You've definately grown a personality and your cuteness has multiplied with each tooth that's shown itself (3 1/2 as we go to press). But all that pales to the ants that have invaded your pants. We blinked and you went from crawling to stumbling to walking and then running. And like the Duracell bunny, you never stop. We remember with longing the days when all you did was sit on your tush and occasionally roll around a bit. We were naive, nay optimistic, that this Golden Era would last an eon. Instead gates have been put up. Sharp corners covered. Expensive items moved out of reach. It would have been easier to tie you to a post in the ground but apparently the Canadian Social Services would have something to say about that. Shame because Pater could have saved a fortune in shoes.
Eventually Pater bowed to the inevitable. Some will say he was weak to break his oath of not letting you out the house til you're 30, but what's an oath in the face of a Mater's insistence that you take your new found skills to the outside world. And so on November 7th 2010, you were shod for "real" shoes.
How can a girl get by with only one pair of outdoor shoes? Paters the world round would answer, "just fine". Unfortunately Paters the world round have no say in such matters. This one certainly didn't and a short time later, you got boots (for the all walking we were going make you do in the harsh Canadian winter???)
As a wise philosopher once said, "Have shoes, will shop".
After a long day of conspiring with Mater to deplete Pater's net worth, what better way to relax than hanging with your toys?
We love watching you play, though Pater does wonder where your lack of fear will take you next. Mater wonders if she has a tom-boy on her hands. And Grandma Toronto just wonders how you'll find a husband!
At the end of a long day, every gal likes to kick off her shoes and let her stinky feet air out. And you're no different...
Thankfully, you haven't completely forgotten how to sit down. It only lasts for a short moment. But ah, what bliss those short moments are. Post bath, middle of an ice-rink, watching TV, sitting on your grandmas. You're not fussy where you plonk yourself.
But this is the new Millenium. Sitting and walking are so passe. A girl around town needs a motor to get from A - Z. Any kind of motor.
So is Pater worried about your new found freedom? Is he scared that your bravado will make you do something dangerous? Nah. Nope. Not at all. Pater has trust in you. Absolute faith. It's not like you're going to turn into a biker chick, hanging out on the back of some guy's Harley Davidson...
Mater and Pater (whatever those titles mean!) have been remiss in writing a blogpost for ages so it falls to me, Avocado Jnr, to tell you all about my new home. Writing this post is not easy, I can tell you. I had to hide Pater's notebook in my diaper earlier and smuggle it into my cot when Mater took me for my afternoon nap. Typing away quietly so that my monitor doesn't pick up the noise is not an easy task. And if I'm cranky later, blame it on my parents for neglecting their blogging obligations.
Okay, down to the task at hand. Please allow me (and doggy) to start by welcoming you to my new house.
It's been so long since the last post that I should mention how I'm now walking, have two bottom teeth and have added a few words to my vocabulary. Oh and I can touch type 100 words a minute. Okay, now that you're caught up, let's begin our tour. We start in my family room, move into my kitchen and then into my dining room.
We now move up the stairs (can the stragglers at the back please keep up) and make our way to my bedroom, with only a brief pause to fix my long (but curly) hair.
So this is my bedroom. Pater calls it the Pepto-Bismol room. What's Pepto-Bismol?
Pater took my advice and made sure my shoe collection had its own home.
I love my bedroom. It's where I sleep with my doggies. It's where Mater and Pater read to me in my rocking chair. It's where Mater changes my dirty diapers and picks out what clothes I'm going to wear. And it's where I play at the end of a long day, um, playing.
Enough of me playing in my room. Let's go downstairs to the basement. Mater doesn't let me climb down stairs, so can someone please carry me? Great. And here's me playing in my basement with Mr Boing Boing my toy rabbit, and taking him shopping...
Now onto the garden. What's that noise? Alert. Alert. Drat, Mater and Pater have found me. I'll have to finish the post later tonight, once they've gone to bed. Quick, got to slip the notebook back into my diaper...
...okay, it's me again, lying in my cot at the end of a long day. Earlier was a close call but Mater and Pater didn't suspect a thing. After some supper and a bit more playing, Mater insisted on bathing me. I know, ridiculous - I bathed just yesterday! What's that all about? Mothers! I guess it's not too bad now that I get a whole bathtub to myself. Hair washes aren't too much fun because my hair is so long...
...but with all my toys and a big bath to play in, I can't complain.
Doggy has just informed me that I'm keeping him up with my typing so I'd better finish off. I hope you all enjoyed your tour of my new house. Feel free to drop by any time. With or without a gift for me...
Everything started out just fine. Your typical 1 year old birthday party. With cake and decorations and presents and family and food and balloons and a birthday crown, of course.
Mater and Pater kept the party going with plenty of food and party games. The most fun you've had, well, ever - pass the parcel, musical chairs, pin the horn on the unicorn - what with your surname we didn't want to risk the jokes with pin the tail on the donkey...
Mmmmm...a sweet table for the sweetheart.
Family to keep things interesting.
And then came time for the birthday cake. Oh, the birthday cake. A millenia old tradition. Mater wanted so much to get you the most special cake. And so she ordered a vanilla cake with meringue laced in the icing. What could be wrong with that? Nothing. Well, nothing if you weren't (unknown to us) allergic to eggs... 
Mater and Pater have heard horror stories about what kids get up to on their 18th and 21st birthday parties, but we weren't expecting you to finish your first birthday doped off your face. Okay it was Benadryl but drugs are drugs!
Scares aside, you had a great day and even after your party ended, you still had energy to carry on partying. Shame the same couldn't be said for Mater...
Here's to your first birthday party, Avocado Jnr! Pater and I wish you many more to come. And hopefully Mater won't almost kill you at the next one...
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She'll even hitch a ride with her older cousin if need be.
And then things started getting a little wild when the clothing started to come off. Avocado Jr., you do have some great thigh rolls, so everyone welcomed the nudity.
