It’s very sudden when a baby goes from being, well, a baby to when she turns into a person. Meaning a person with a personality and quirks and likes and an opinion.
Like with Clara. I don’t know when it happened. But she’s not a baby. She’s a little mini person. A person who drops her food on the floor when she’s finished eating. Who knows when to show me her “silly wiggly wonderful toes” during her bedtime story. Who can’t be tricked into drinking water from her cup when she wants milk. I got her to eat shredded turkey by telling her it was chickens.
Did I tell you she says “cat”? She does. She calls any smallish four-legged animal a cat. She dances to Hanson in the car, even between sobs because she just wants out.
As I type this she is slowly pushing my (empty) beer off the coffee table, looking at me with direct eye contact, and smirking because she knows she shouldn’t push things on the floor but wants to see how long I let her go before moving the bottle.
What I mean to say is, she’s fresh. And she’s not even one. And everyone tells me “Just you wait until she starts talkingI” Or “Oh man! wait till she walking!” as if those are big, scary things. But honestly, I can’t wait until she says hysterical things that only toddlers say. Or until I can let her walk somewhere and I can hold her hand.
TBH, I think moving on to walking has got to be easier than going from barely rolling to full out crawling around like a ninja.