The small one is about a week and a half into her crawling masters class, and has seemingly developed the ability to materialize across the room in mere seconds, pulling up on anything that she can get her hands on.
What's that noise?! Oh, look at that, the baby is introducing the floor lamp to the TV.
Her little legs seem to be spring-loaded, instinctively refusing a seated position for the better option of being upright. Now that she has crawling figured out, she's fixated on walking.
Shaking things is nothing terribly new, but today she turned it up a notch and got busy with the maracas, cracking us all up and prompting Peach to imitate ("Look! I taught her that!") a full-body rock. Her accompanying ape-like expression puts it over the top. She also might be using her new move to facilitate a hello/goodbye wave. We'll have to present more opportunities to practice those burgeoning communications.
Topping off all of this obsessive development, there seems to be a tooth-pocalypse going down in Pimento's mouth. The drool hasn't stopped for four days, and I've got her popping teething tablets like an addict. Upon inspection, it looks like there are no fewer than five teeth laying siege to her defenseless gums. It's incredibly pathetic. And it's turning my normally easy-going baby into a clingy, restless retread of her big sister.
Speaking of whom, Peach is blowing us away with her grown-up-ness, spouting vocabulary and creative story-telling that instantly turns us to putty. We want to encourage her without rushing her, mainly because her sudden language prowess serves as proof that she'll soon be too grown-up for the nightly snuggles, laps to sit on, and "hold me!"s she currently demands.
When Daddy was putting her to sleep last night, he facetiously asked if she would still want to come snuggle in our bed when she was married.
She answered, "Only if my husband doesn't snuggle me."
And she was quite serious.
