She loves looking out the window. She loves her brother and her sister. I love to hear her growling and babbling and yelling at them. And let's face it: she's loud. She's loud because the rest of them are loud and she just has to be as loud as them to fit in.
And fit in she does.
I love her little profile and the top of her little head. And I love everything about her. And when I think about the fact that she is almost a year old I kind of want to cry and pick her up and rock her for the rest of forever.
Except for that she doesn't really want to be rocked anymore. Unless it's really dark and really quiet and she can't hear any of her siblings reminding her that there are things to do and people to see. Then she'll let me rock her. And remember how she used to love to snuggle with me on my bed? And cuddle up next to me when she was falling asleep for her nap? Those days are gone.
Sniff sniff. Or actually it's more like sob, sob. And unfortunately for her, I'm going to force those cuddles for the rest of forever. So I guess she had better just get used to it.
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