Birdie

My daughter is fearless, and though she could rival any drunk penguin in a walking competition, when she's really excited her little legs move quicker than her balance can keep up with.  Her poor head usually suffers in some way.  I know bumps, scrapes, and bruises are all part of the deal, but I just feel so bad for her when she tumbles headfirst into nothing (or worse, headfirst into something.)  All in all, she is getting pretty good with her walking and has not crawled at all since her birthday.  Apparently, crawling is so eleven months.

Birdie is in love.  She has her own baby and she is a fantastic mommy.  She is sure that her baby is always dressed appropriately (no hat needed, and do NOT try to sneak it back on) and that she is jammed in her stroller/walker safely (head-first = ok; two legs in one leg hole = ok) and she is never without LOVE.  Birdie has learned how to give LOVE and if you are the lucky recipient of a kiss, watch out for the tongue (we're going to work on that before school, I swear.)  Having so many pets, we've tried to teach about gentle petting from a very, very early age.  It has worked.  Mostly (who doesn't enjoy the occasional slightly-harder-than-gentle tap?)  She regularly pets the pets, her stuffed animals, her babies, and us.  I love baby love.  Chubby arms around my neck for a tight hug are the best thing ever.

Birdie can dance the rhythmic baby squat.  It's beyond cute.

I came into the room I have her PnP set up as I heard some sounds alerting me that she was awake.  From the doorway, I saw the kitten sitting on the floor in front of the PnP, and the baby sitting inside facing the kitten with a blanket over her head.  Apparently I interrupted a delightful game of peekaboo.

I hate teething.  Teething is from the devil.

I have still managed to resist all attempts made by enthusiastic friends and relatives to give Birdie a french fry.  I don't care if "she would like it."  She has her whole life to eat crap, I'd like to keep her as ignorant as possible as long as I can.  I love that she loves plain cheerios and doesn't need the flavored ones.  I love that she'll eat as many blueberries as I'll give her.  I feel good seeing her drink a cup of water.  We have friends who smirked a laughing parental smirk when I told them the types of things she eats.  "Just wait till your second," the father said, "with the first you make it all yourself, but by the second, you're telling them to microwave her own hot dog for breakfast!" Could be.  But for now, we're doing it this way.

She likes to be flipped upside down.  Repeatedly.

Birdie likes to bring me things.  Sometimes it's her own toys, plastic dishes, bits of shredded kleenex or toilet paper, or teensy blades of grass she found on the floor.  Sometimes she just likes to pretend to hand me things.

My daughter has a TEMPER and she gets ANGRY.  She has been known to pound her tiny fist furiously on a table or highchair tray if denied the object of her desire.  She is currently perfecting her temper tantrum skills.  She can arch her back, wriggle out of a hold, make all or part of her body perfectly rigid, and she can do it while screaming, sobbing, or both.

She can stick her tongue out and wiggle it around.  She can cluck and click.  She can shake her head no.  She likes to brush her teeth with me.  Even though she's still pretty bald, she pretends to comb her hair.  She can show you her new shoes.  She likes to read and climb stairs and growl and laugh and wave to strangers.  

She is obsessed with the phone and will stare at anyone she sees talking on one (and then point and say "nuh! nuh! NUH!" until you acknowledge the presence of a phone.)  She knows where all our phones are and where they are at her grandparents' houses.  Having a cell phone in her hands will nearly always stop a fit, but it will prevent some of your buttons from working in the future if they get too slobbered/chewed.

Her favorite word is still mama.

We went to an awesome Christmas house (it was featured on HGTV) and she stared in awe at the lights and squealed with delight at the reindeer.  She loved watching the train and listening to the music.  When we visited Santa she was more impressed by the big tree than the big man.  She didn't cry, but she didn't smile either.

She can squat, bend down, and pick up her sippy cup with just her teeth.

She's sweet and smart and strong and funny and curious and soft and squishy and wonderful.

I love her and I can't imagine my life without her in it.  I hope she always knows.