Little Warrior is looking so good. Pudgy, and showing some piss 'n vinegar. Last night, I sat down with a bowl of cheerios for myself and a cup of cheerios for her. Well, she crawled over and began taking handfuls of mine. (Luckily, I like mine without milk.) I explained, 'LW's cheerios, Mama's cheerios ...' LW grabbed onto my bowl with both hands and I'm not entirely sure what she said, but I don't believe she was echoing my words. And frankly, I believe she used language not becoming a young lady.
I tried to wrest my bowl away from her, unsuccessfully, and somewhere in the confusion, she also managed to get my spoon away from me.
I ate Cheerios out of the box, by the handful, while LW very carefully maneuvered the spoon in the bowl to dump cheerios on the floor.
We're so proud. Using a spoon at 12 months.
I'm afraid to be happy.
I'm afraid to be hopeful.
This goes against my personality. I am an "eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die" kind of person. We can't really prepare for the worst, emotionally, so we should enjoy today.
I'm trying to.