Daughter: Defined

I had a great time this morning with the all-inclusive responsibility of getting my daughter up and going with me. I have never done this before, but I must say I did a fair job with her hair:



She ate bread, as you may see. Let me assure you that this is a regular thing. We could have just as easily had oatmeal or grits, but this morning time was of the essence and bread was handy. She ate 85% of it on the way to Tifton. With milk.

I can't say enough about how she's so much more fun every day. Her vocabulary is growing and she loves to read (which reminds me that we need more books; Hand Hand Fingers Thumb is getting very ratty). As she becomes more active and responsive, she is beginning to tell us what she likes and doesn't (and the doesn't category certainly gets more drama applied to it) and bringing a more accurate definition of who she is. She used to be just "Anika, our daughter." Now the definition has changed, and it's "Anika, our daughter who gets in and out of bed by herself, doesn't like sour cream, loves to laugh for the fun of laughing, stomps in rain puddles, and fancies popcorn with mommy and daddy."