11 Months

12 great iPhotos, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Your favorite thing in the world is reading. Or rather, being read to. Now that you have discovered the thrill of moving yourself across the floor with alarming speed, you often skip over the instruments and toys and head straight for the nearest book. You are partial to books about monkeys, cats and lions, in that order. Except you really don't give a squat about the Cat in the Hat. Now, Cats in Pajamas you could read all day and attempt to do so. Kittens in Mittens is a good second choice, but clearly the lesson learned here is that floral pantsuits are much more becoming on a cat than mittens or a natty top hat. I mean, duh.

You enjoy having The Lion's Paw and Baby Boo read to you at approximately the same exact time. I have yet to work out how to hold you and two books open at the same time. In the meantime, you fling one book up in the air, your signal that it's time for me to read to you. We get about two sentences into one book when you throw the other one up in the air which I take from you and start to read...when you fling the other book up into the air. Either I will grow a third arm or your attention span will increase to that of a meth addict's and we might one day actually learn how that friggin lion gets the thorn out of its paw.

As I mentioned before, you are a crawling fool. The pets are terrified by this and that makes me and your father extremely happy. You actually pulled yourself to standing the other day, let go of the ottoman, and promptly fell over and bonked your head pretty hard. You cried. But then you pulled yourself back up. That you are already a tough broad doesn't bear repeating.

You scored a sweet piano from your Pop-Pop and love to tickle the ivories, usually with a wooden spoon. The tambourine kinda scares you, yet you have no problem wailing on the drums like a baby Sheila E with the baby noise reduction headphones your dad bought you. You went to Music for Aardvarks with your dad and chewed a drumstick better than any of the other drumstick chewers. I'm sure you will wind up with your own drum kit at some point soon. Me and my future migraines can't wait.

Light switches, cabinets doors, drawers and dog bowls. The world is suddenly your giant treasure chest. When you are not crawling toward it, you are pointing and scrunching your fingers at it until one of us suckers gives you a ride to your destination. You call to monkeys and cats and dogs (oooh-oooh-oooh) and know that I am mommommommommom. Taking baths makes you so,so happy, and this is how I know you are mine. When your dad and I leave for our Thursday night date, Jessica tells us that she takes you upstairs and you point at our door and cry. And this makes me cry, too.