On 18 Months of Yumminess

My favorite chunky punkin is 1.5 years old TODAY.

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No one in our house can remember life without him, nor do we care to try. He is the funniest, hungriest, most coordinated bundle of steel around.

He constantly makes people smile – young, old, strangers, friends. Maybe it’s his smirk. Maybe it’s his beach bod. Either way, he is the epitome of happiness.

In just a few short weeks, this booger will be a middle child – a fact that makes my eyes spontaneously moist – so his one.point.five. baby years need to be celebrated.

I can’t even begin to list all the things about him that bring us joy, but I’ll give it a go. (Partly because I know I’ll forget over time, partly because I feel guilty that I used to write his brother letters for milestone ages. Lists will just have to suffice for “the subsequents”.)

The joys of Hutton:

His favorite word is “gump” – a guttural noise that has something to do with food. (We’re still not entirely sure of its meaning, but it’s my fave.)

He is rarely – if ever – without “Raff”.


He is freakishly strong (as in pushed me out of a chair and on to my butt last week).

He legitimately thinks he’s cool. #swag


He freaked out at a brand new kitten last week and punched it in the face.

He tries daily to remove the “ball” out from under my shirt.


He spends a majority of his time naked because yum.

Related: he is obsessed with wearing shoes. Even while naked.

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He is infatuated with his daddy. (And brother. But mostly his daddy.)

He is the toughest mudder around. Like, face plants on concrete, gets back up, wipes off the blood, and keeps on running.


He loves to climb. (And therefore is not to be trusted when out of sight.)


He sings himself to sleep with a rendition of a song from Taylor’s childhood

night night Hutton
night night Hutton
it’s time to go to sleep

(and will encourage you to sing along if he’s ready to go to sleep and no one is helping a brother out).

He is completely unaware of his mammoth size.


He’s very affectionate and cuddly. (And, because he’s freakishly strong, brings meaning to the phrase “sometimes love hurts”.)

He emotes incredibly well, especially when he thinks you’re being ridiculous.


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Finally – and arguably the best of all – he drops everything he’s doing and runs to the kitchen at the mention of food.

(No, seriously, support us. Our grocery bills during his teenage years might be a problem.)

You, little boy, are fearfully and wonderfully made. From your chest dimple to your scrunchy nose to your linebacker build to sense of humor…you are a treasure from the inside out.

We all took a vote and decided to keep you.

So here’s to the next 18 months where you’ll probably, sadly, stop sprinting when asked about eating.

And then here’s to forever because that’s how long we’d like to keep you around.

We love you to the moon, Hutt man.

“May you live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge of God.”

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