Recently, I've found myself saying, "He's 15 months," an awful lot. That's really all I have to say.
Why does he think it's funny to run away from me as fast as he can the second I put him down in a public place? Because he's 15 months old.
Why does he find it necessary to feed Sampson half of every meal?
Because he's 15 months old.
Why does he find it amusing to hide the remote control in any piece of pottery he can find around the house?
Because he's 15 months old.
Why does he enjoy getting into the pantry to find a bag of chips, take them into the office, open the bag, pour the bag all over the floor and proceed to snack on the chips?
Because he's 15 months old.
Cooper is 15 months old. Enough said.
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