Oh goodness, ten months. How did that happen?
My sweet girl, I could eat your cheeks. Your laugh is worth a million bucks, and there are few things in the world I wouldn't do to hear it. (Including tickling you mercilessly. I'm selfish, what can I say.) You give open-mouth kisses that leave a trail of drool behind, you like to grab my teeth with your just-slobbered-on fingers, and you think your toes are the tastiest treat in Brooklyn; in short, you're a hilariously grody little baby and I adore that. Don't ever be too precious, kiddo - keep it real.
You're just on the verge of learning to clap your own hands after weeks of clapping mine for me. Your sniffle-laugh seems to have gone the way of the dodo - to my everlasting chagrin - but you've replaced it with a little grunt-and-shoulder-wiggle that's designed to garner as much attention from your audience as possible. Truly, it seems like most things these days are geared toward that purpose. "Look at me! Love me! PAY ATTENTION, GROWN-UPS! There is cuteness over here." And we do, because the cuteness is overwhelming.
My tiny, flirty pixie! You big-hearted, funny, goofy, lovey child - watching you find yourself is the best adventure I've ever had. I'll be sure to sing and hug and clap you on your way.
love your sweet face,