Babygirl is 13 and a half months old, almost. Today, she walked down the cement stairs in the back yard without holding on to anything. She was chasing a ball.
While we were in the back yard, she begged until I gave her a garden tool, so she "helped" me dig up weeds.
She writes with a pencil. In fact, she insists on writing with any pencil or crayon she spies.
Two days ago, she waved a bubble wand and created bubbles! (Over and over again, despite the October chill in the air.)
Music makes her dance. She'll even say "dance" if I ask her if she'd like some music.
She figured out how to blow on a whistle today (it was actually the top portion of a recorder). Her little cheeks puffed out and she'd toot. I'd laugh, she'd giggle and do it again.
But today's nap was only twenty minutes long! I was so disappointed to hear her wake up. She went down without a fuss at 8 p.m.
I watched her run in the kitchen this afternoon (dirty dishes in the sink and crumbs in the carpet) and thought that I probably won't remember so much of these days. I won't remember her four-toothed grin, her toddling gait, her interest in sticking her finger in my nose. I won't remember the dishes or the crumbs, either!
So, while waiting tedious hours for nap-time and building a three-block tower fifteen times in a row and watching baby temper tantrums when she turns her back to me and clenches her fists and screams, I will try to see the miracle of her. I will try to be present in the moment. I will try to memorize her blond curls and her denim-blue eyes. I will not wish away these weeks and months.
In another moment, she'll be going to college and walking down the aisle and having babies of her own. And I'll miss having her finger up my nose.