Monday, May 27, 2013

{ Eleven Months }

My Little Dear,
Today you are eleven months old. I can't even believe it--and tomorrow marks one year since our first appointment at Children's Hospital, those hours and hours of ultrasounds and talking to specialists about all the special care you were going to need after you were born. And look at you now! The sweetest, happiest little blue-eyed girl ever!
You've been busy lately. Recently you tried corn on the cob, and--be still my heart--you loved it. Clearly you and I are descended from the same line of Idaho women who love their corn on the cob. You loved gnawing on the ear, even though you couldn't really get any kernels off.
Note: That's what a mommy with a knife is for.
You start wiggling as soon as you hear music--any music, even the ice cream truck outside.
You love to dig books out of your book basket and try to turn their pages. Someone actually reading the stories to you is interesting for about two seconds, then you're ready for a new book {hopefully with pages you can open and turn by yourself}. Grabbing books and turning pages: That's where the money's at.

You've cut four top teeth, bringing your grand total to six. I'm excited to see how having top and bottom teeth impacts your eating. You get frustrated when you can't chew up foods, so being able to chew more effectively will open up new gastronomic horizons!
Over the last three weeks or so, you've become fascinated with dogs. When you see a dog, you start growling or making "oof oof" noises. Often when we are out, you'll start wiggling and growling, and it takes me awhile to find the dog you've spotted! You're not sure about actually touching dogs, though: you inch closer and closer, and just as you're about to touch, you pull back. Lucky for us, we've only encountered friendly dogs so far.
Keys! Your new obsession. One day I made the mistake of letting you play with my keys, and now you think that as soon as we step outside, any keys on my person are your especial possession. You fuss and screech if I don't hand them over fast enough. Eventually I went to Ace Hardware and asked if I could buy some mis-cut keys for you to jingle. They very kindly gave you several, so now you have your own set of keys.
But. You still prefer mine. And have been know to lunge over my shoulder in vain attempts to reach into the diaper bag and find my keys. While I'm carrying you.

:: rifling through the diaper bag, and playing with keys--your favorite things to do ::
In the past few days, at mealtimes you've started offering me {or whoever is closest to you} whatever you're eating, stretching your hand out to me until I take whatever you've got. As far as I can tell, I'm supposed to hold it for a few seconds and then offer it back to you. Sometimes we exchange your food a few times before you eat it; sometimes it goes right in your mouth. But you definitely want to share it. It's so cute! 
You love to be "walked" around with someone holding your hands or supporting your armpits. You would walk everywhere this way if you could. Often you'll hold out your arms to me, your signal for "pick me up," and make it clear that you want to be walked to something. You don't want to roll, or scoot on your bottom {a skill you're just learning}; you want to walk there.
We've made lots of trips to the beach lately, some just the two of us and some with Daddy.

:: this was a bonfire with friends one evening ::

You really enjoy swings. Especially when the person pushing you is highly entertaining, like your papa.

:: ::

:: Ok, this one cracks me up. Don't you think
this is what she'll look like when she's a
little old lady? Owl hat and all!
:: I learned the hard way that a picnic blanket 
is a necessity--you start eating rocks the
minute I set you down! ::
You roll all over the place. Haven't figured out crawling, but you are thisclose to it! You have all the pieces, just haven't quite figured out how to put them together. On a side note, I've figured you out, girlfriend. If you've been rolling around the living room, talking and playing with your toys, and suddenly it gets quiet, one of two things is happening: You are either chewing on computer cords, or you've rolled under the mantel and are examining the {long, dangerous} nails the shoddy construction workers left sticking out.
{Don't worry, I took care of the power cord situation, and she's only rolled under the mantel once.}

:: "ME? Trouble? Never!" ::
You talk a lot, nonsense syllables with lots of emotion, facial expressions, and "mamadadabababa."

You are full of budding personality and sweet snuggles and hair that's all frizzy and crazy in the back when you get up from your nap. You are the cutest little Lainie-Bug, and I love you!

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