Eleven

Alternate title: BOOM!

My, how quickly things change. You are on the move my not so little girl. You full-on crawl as fast as you can to wherever you want to go. You make your way from room to room on a one woman mission to locate all of the electrical outlets and rid them of their protective covers. You put everything into your mouth, including whatever your fingers can scrape out of the carpet. You're cute, but kind of gross.



I have the invitations for your birthday party sitting right next to me, begging to be addressed and mailed. We can't wait to celebrate with you, but we absolutely can not believe how quickly time has gone.

I am living in the moment with you, not wishing any of it away. You are free with your smiles and happily reach for the nearest set of arms to hold you. You still eat anything you're offered, but refuse a sippy cup. Let me be the first to tell you that this will be a problem in about a month. You still prefer a middle of the night visit or two, although your dad swears you sleep through the night. For the most part your prefer your bed, and only your bed, for sleeping. In cases of extreme exhaustion, you will nap in the car, but the stroller - HA! Grandma's beautiful crib? Nope. Not before midnight, at least.

Have I mentioned that your newfound super duper crawling skills mean that you're into EVERYTHING? I must have kept Bub much more contained, because I can not remember this level of redirection. First order of business in the new house? Babyproofing.


Mostly, life is so good, filled with these moments of pure, baby joy. Unless I'm taking away the magazine you're intent on destroying. Then, cover your ears folks.

Next monthly post: your birthday!