It's probably not that exciting, and perhaps a little late due to all her extra junk in the trunk (you try rolling over when you're legs and bum are composed from top to bottom of a good six or seven squishy rolls) but she rolled over today. I think she did it on accident once when she was super little. But today was the, I-put-her-on-her-tummy-and-walked-away-only-to-turn-around-and-find-her-on-her-back, official roll-over. I think there will be lots to come.
I know it's a little thing, but a little part of me is mourning it. I feel so painfully aware, this time around, of how quickly she's passing through each magical stage. If only we could bottle them all and pull them out when we've got two raging toddlers and are in desperate need of some newborn nuzzles and noises. "Yes, today I'd prefer a little bit of the sweet smelling poopoo and spit-up, (I know I'm weird but when they're little, I like it all) yes, maybe a little spray of some of that bubble blowing discovery (you know where their tongue is out and they learn to spit at you and they're amazed at themselves), or a little peek at that determined shaky face trying to get fist to mouth to suck and drool, maybe even a bottle of the drool. I'd like a little bit of baby-neck scent, some of kissing-the-chubbiest-cheeks-you've ever kissed, and a bottle of that look. The one that Mila just started doing. The one where she stares at me with such intensity and then grins the happiest smile you've ever seen. As if to say she's perfectly and completely and incandescently happy to be my baby girl. And I feel like she's in LOVE with me. Like she doesn't see a single flaw yet. YET. The feeling's mutual."