Anne is walking. As in, full time. You put her down, and her short self toddles off to an as yet undetermined destination that is certain to involve her opening something I don't want her to open. She doesn't crawl at all anymore.
And Henry is a full fledged kid all of a sudden. I thought it was just yesterday that *he* was toddling off to wreck havoc in the accidentally-left-open bathroom.
Heard last night in our house after Anne was mercifully in bed:
"It's my turn. Oh! I know who did it, I'm going to make an accus-a-zation. It was Mr. Green in the billiard room with the lead pipe!"
"Hank honey, *you* have the billiard room card, you just showed it to me on my turn."
"Oh. Never mind. I'm going to take the secret passage over to the kitchen."