My littlest baby is one year old today. Actually, in about six hours. This time last year, I was in labor, waiting for a hospital room to open up so they could induce me. Yes, labor started hours before my scheduled induction. Makes me feel like July 21 was really meant to be her birthday, unlike G, who I think would have been born in April if we hadn't induced. And wouldn't that have been a kickass mother's ring? May (emerald), April (diamond), and July (ruby). Yikes. Feel sorry for whoever would have been buying me that. Add a fourth in September and we've the quartet of pricy stones. Of course, G was born in March, so I'm stuck with aquamarine or some such oddball stone.
Isn't it utterly amazing what happens to a baby in one year? One year ago, S was a tiny (okay, huge) bundle that could barely move on her own. Now she's walking, practically talking (weird for me, given that my other two talked after their SECOND birthdays) and you can just see her brain working. She's still the sweetest baby - unless she's mad. Then you just better watch out. It takes a lot for her to get mad, but when she does. Whoa. Mainly, though, she's content to cruise around, check things out, see what she can eat. She likes to cuddle, read stories, rock babies and try to chew the heart off of Care Bears' behinds. She's the beloved baby sister of T and G, who are always trying to comfort her if she's upset (can you say spoiled? LOL).
Happy one year, Baby S.
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