Her chubby legs and feet barely fit the "12 month" size socks we picked up, the polka-dots stretch to ovals. That sweet-sweet face sleeping soundly in the bed as I sneak from under-covers to have a few moments of my own before the day begins. The fussing at night as been barely bearable, as I'm trying not to bring her to bed, and not to nurse her between 10p and 5a. In the morning she looks at me bright-eyed, as if to deny that siren-wail baby ever existed. She's attached, and that's good though it makes my getting moment's peace a lot less likely. Her scrunched-nose scowl 'n' wiggle-sway keeps us giggling, a sure sign of a pleased baby here.
Oh, how we love the baby-love.