Dylan is walking! How did that happen? I don’t know much about babies, but I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t be walking at the age of … hang on a sec … 10 and a half months. Or am I crazy?
Anyway, my little soldier showed off her spunk and determination when I was there in April, refusing to sit for more than a second before grabbing the bars of her cot, a convenient leg, the edge of a table or chair, and hauling herself to her feet. And there she’d stand, stamping her little legs up and down and laughing at her own skill.
Redheads. More gumption in one little finger than the rest of us amass in a lifetime.
Ha, and she’s still head-banging! Man, I’m good. Just one little indoctrination session with Type O Negative was all it took. Woo! Go me. Wonder if Ricki’s performed that exorcism yet … ?
Hey, Big D. Bet you’ll be running by the time I get there for Gogo and Pa’s 60th, right? And you’ll chase that big sister of yours ragged. Man, you do take after your mommy an awful lot!
Love you, chica. Can’t wait to see you again, and hug and squeeze and kiss and love your little face until you push me away and shout “No!”. That frown is too cute.
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