Three things I love about my daughter:
- The way she yawns and stretches in the morning when I first take her out of her moses basket -- with her whole body, enthusiastically. Her tiny little arms stretch way up over her head, the position they were in for much of the last month she was inside me (often pounding on my rib cage with her tiny fists).
- How she roots around when I put her facedown on my chest, trying to suck any available surface, whether it's my neck, or shoulder, or ear, scrunching herself around while she does. Really, anything other than what she's supposed to be sucking is apparently worth investigating, and her mouth on my skin tickles, making me laugh and laugh. Kevin too -- in fact, she did this to him first.
- Staring into her eyes, and having her stare back, very intently, while I give her a bottle. She's incredibly serious, as if she's trying to find the meaning of life in my face. It's not there, baby girl. But I'm happy to have you keep looking.
