It happens every month on the ninth, and yet it catches me by surprise every time. My baby is another month older, one month closer to being one whole year old, and I just have no idea how it happened.
Eight months old. Yikes.
Time is flying by so quickly. Much too quickly. But it is a great time. This is the best time of my life.
My baby girl still refuses to crawl, but she is moving toward walking at quite a fast pace.
She has been pushing herself up on her feet for over a month, and just last night I let her stand, holding herself on the ottoman, and she stood there for SEVEN MINUTES before she wobbled a bit, and that was only because she was dancing. Just standing there, sometimes on one foot and sometimes only holding herself up with one hand. So confident. So strong. Of course, I don't have a picture, because I was too busy marveling at my little wonder.
She smiles 99% of the day.
She waves. She hugs. She kisses. She has such a little personality.
She has THREE whole teeth. She says "Da-da-da-da-da!" all day long (and then says "MA-MA-MA-MA" in a wail-y voice when she is sad). She has favorite cartoons.
She laughs at her cat and dog. She gets on her hands and knees and rocks and rocks and ROCKS like a maniac. She eats like a champ.