How do I deal with my last "little" baby hauling booty around my house in an army crawl, socially waving, having two teeth, babbling up a storm, and in general acting like she wants to be big?
I dress her like a doll that you order out of the back of a magazine.
Like a 20 pound doll.
In an outfit that is a size 12-18 months from a store that runs large.
I'm already trying to prep myself to resist blurting out "Are you sure you don't want to wear flats to prom?".
I'm afraid I'm going to be the lone midget of the house. Oh well.
Obviously I'm clinging desperately to the "baby" clothes now. She looked so freakin adorable for church today though:
After her lunch, we snapped a few more "birthday" pics.
"What's my bro doing over there?"
"He so fuuuunny!"
"I heart hairbrush."
Except, you know, she doesn't heart hairbrush.
I think she chews it to hurry it's inevitable decline in the hopes that once it's trashed we won't do her hair anymore.
I need to stop time. Just for a month or fourteen...