You? Are a firecracker. You are volatile and loud. You are opinionated and goofy. You are stubborn and tenacious. To be honest, I feel strange putting you in frilly, girly outfits. As much as I want to, it just totally doesn't fit your personality. You aren't "boyish," but you are spunky and tough. You are no princess. You never, ever stop moving. From the moment your eyes open in the morning to when they close at night you are going. You don't even slow down for nursing or diaper changes. I am surprised you have not mastered crawling yet, with your constant on-to-go-ness, but you find other ways to get from here to there. You want to touch everything and taste everything. You go from 0 to 60 and 60 to 0. One moment you are whining, the next you are shrieking with laughter and the very next you are asleep.
Speaking of sleep...
That's all I've got.
I'm too tired to finish that thought. Someday when your daughter is laying in your arms at 2am looking up at you with tired eyes and you have rocked and shushed and lullabied for what feels like an eternity and yet she still won't just close her eyes and go to sleep. Do not call me. Instead, imagine me sleeping on a cloud of fairy's wings in a soundless vacuum under the influence of many Ambien. Imagine me sleeping the delicious sleep of the childless. And be jealous.

Here is, I believe the crux of who you are at the very core: if you do not want to do something you will not do it. If you do not want to sleep you will just not sleep for as long as you deem appropriate to illustrate your willpower. You do what you want when you want, and if you are unable or not allowed you protest loudly until your desires are met. Right now - and I'm sure for years to come - this trait is so very frustrating for me, but please don't ever change.
I said last time that you don't like strangers. It would be more accurate to say you actively abhor any one but your dad and me. Sometimes Grandma and Auntie Sarah are okay, but everyone else is met with suspicious stares and then wails of discontent. Someday? Maybe? You will like other people. Otherwise you will have to take your dad to prom, and that might be awkward.

You are becoming a little parrot. When I cough you do a little fake cough with your tiny tongue sticking out. If I make a kissy noise, you smack your lips together. If I say "Ho Ho Ho," you parrot back "Huh Huh Huh." For the first time I feel like we are communicating with each other, and it thrills me to no end. The other day as you rode in your carseat I asked you, "Mia, can you say 'Hi?'" and you waved to me. I about died. It was as close to a conversation as we've come, and I can't wait for more.
Your love for cats runs hard and deep. You stop everything you are doing the moment a cat enters the room, and then you set out to get to them. They are so good with you too, but it just encourages you to grab onto their tails with all your might. When we look at your pictures books, you always pause and giggle at the pictures of the cats. It is so awesome to see how your little mind works.
People always say you look like your dad, then they inevitably pause and say, "But she's got mommy's eyes." It's true, you have your dad's smile and chin, but my eyes (the jury's still out on who's nose you have). It is surreal and strangely familiar to look into those eyes every day. Those eyes that are mine, but filled with promise I'll never know.

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