Just another day spent entirely within three hundred yards of the boat.

Ouest has started to put letters together with certain words. Points to L, says, “Lowe.” M, “Mama.” P, “Papa.” B, “Boat.” D, “Dog” O, “Me.”

She has also randomly started doing somersaults. Perfect straight over the head somersaults. The problem now is keeping her from doing them on the dock or within kicking distance of Lowe.

Lowe still isn’t quite crawling, but he pops up on all fours instantly and has begun to do the body rock, bouncing back and forth like he is getting himself psyched to jump off a high diving board. He’s oh so close now.