nine months

If you haven't been able to tell already, I am not the type of mother who is excited by milestones. I selfishly hate them. I know I'm supposed to think it "bittersweet" as they grow, but I wish I could pull my girls into my arms and hold on until I'm ready to move to the next stage.

Elly is nine-months-old. I can already see her transforming from a baby into a little girl. Just in the past few weeks, she has become so strong. Scooting everywhere and climbing everything.

She is already a little jokester. When we were in Georgia, it only took my father-in-law one try to get her to say "papa." When I ask her to say "mama", she smiles (sometimes laughs) and then looks away, finding humor in denying my request.

And this little girl loves her sister. I have a slide show of pictures we watch when Canon is out of town. Her face lights up at each picture, each one familiar and evoking a different feeling of sister-love.

Though so much of her has changed, some things have stayed the same. Her legs still flap wildly and a smile still covers her face when I open her bedroom door in the morning. Her little head still fits perfectly in the nook of my neck. She is still my baby.