Eight is enough

Further proof comes every day that L isn't such a baby anymore. The calendar: her first birthday is a mere three weeks away. The motor skills: the kid is practically walking. My sore back: dude, learn to walk already. You are no seven-pound new born, not by several cramps and spasms. The speech: I haven't witnessed this yet, but her teacher reports that when she fights with her classmate Gwen she constantly yells NO! NO!

(And if this is true, L, then let's document your first word as NO. Somehow, I imagine that will be telling, years hence.)

(And to be fair, because her early months pre-date my blogumenting, let's take this time to note that E's first word, uttered as a demand, was UP! That certainly was telling.)

And now: the appearance of the eighth tooth.

Eight, you're a beauty. You bring symmetry to my love's cheeky smile. Now could you please, please, bring uninterrupted sleep?

Tell Nine to stay away. At least until '09. Let's just cherish you. And slumber.