E not only takes baths, she enjoys them, asks for them, and wants her hair washed, unafraid of the little water that might touch her face.
Also, she loves ice cream now, even though it's cold. But she still won't eat fruit from the fridge, so her Red card is still intact for the time being. All the other kids keep their fruit in the fridge at school. You know E's snack because it's the blueberries and strawberries that have sat out on the food tray until after nap, liquefying, macerating in the room temperature, in the sunbeam, in their sealed containers.
Neither girl has yet ever tried to climb out her crib. E is approaching the 2.5 year mile marker, but I think it will be L who goes first. It turns out she has kamikaze running through her blood. In the past week I have caught her mid-air, head-down/toes-up, twice. Literally CAUGHT her. Once she dove off her changing table trying to reach the diaper stacker. Her head was almost in the diaper pail. She came up smiling and I came up a year closer to my death. The second time she was in my lap in the rocking chair at daycare and Louis, the only baby younger than her, was playing with an activity mat on the floor beneath her. She pulled herself up to see over the armrest, dug her heels into my thigh, and thrust up, propelling herself into a sort of handspring, using the armrest as a vault, as if she'd studied gymnastics for years. Again my hands acted faster than my brain or eyes or heart, and I caught her right before she started to turn Louis into babysplat. She came up giggling and I just came up tired, having accepted the revelation I'd ignored on the earlier leap, that this daughter may require even more vigilance than the first.