It's as if Ava woke up one morning and decided to do away with all this helpless baby business. Now, she has preferences. There are some toys she definitely favors over others (Glow Worm really lights up her world these days, with Rickroll the Rattle Dog coming in a close second). If she's eaten her fill and I'm not astute enough to catch the hint, she smacks her bottle and bellows, "Meh!". She laughs ALL the time -- while playing independently in her carseat, during particularly messy moments on the changing table, even as she's drifting through the early stages of sleep -- and the sound of her cackle sounds to me like something between the throaty chuckle of Angelina Jolie and the dry cough of old men who hang out in small town gas stations and gossip. It's the sweetest, oddest sound. And when we're out of her line of vision, she hollers an utterance that sounds like, "YIPES! YIPES! YIPES!" We respond here she has the chance to get carried away, and apparently that shoos the wooly boogers away.
She's had the opportunity to hang out with her newborn cousin Juliana twice this week. Both times, she's stretched her hand as far as her chubby arm would carry it and tried to squeeze whatever limb of Ana's was closest. The second time, she didn't quite make it to her prize, but the first time she gripped baby cuz's hand and squeezed it until her knuckles turned white and Baby A let out a "YEEP!" of displeasure. It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Ava Leigh was just as wee and fragile merely six months ago. Now she's a steamroller of adorableness with her glad wide eyes and ever multiplying rolls of baby fat. Time marches on, leaving its size 13 bootprints on my heart.
Behold, the nearly unbearable cuteness of them!:
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