Here she is. My one-year-old, as of yesterday. Where did the time go? I understand how it happens – how people have baby after baby. Who would want the baby-ness to end? The squishy cheeks and pudge-feet and squealy delight and mischeviousness. I certainly don't. I can understand how "the baby" of the family is treated like the Forever-Baby, innocent and younger than the rest, somehow less culpable and more innocent no matter what the age.
I find myself much more relaxed with Ashlyn, not wanting her to learn too fast, to grow up too soon, to ever get older. People ask me if she's walking yet. "No!" I exclaim, almost horrified, shivering at the thought that my bitty baby, who stomps as she crawls (its the cutest to watch her head bob side to side with every step) is someday soon going to get around on two feet, become a toddler.
She is getting more adorable by the minute. She has such a different personality than Evyn, though they're both the most lovely kids and mom could ever parent. Ashlyn is less verbal, more physical. She likes to cuddle, and head-butt, and be tickled. If she knows you and likes you, she'll give you a squishy face. When she's proud of herself, she'll clap, and wait for you to return the congratulations.
She doesn't give too much of herself away in public, frustrating passersby who want her to babble or smile or somehow perform. She is intently curious and reserved in every situation with strangers, and she saves the best of herself and her personality for her family and home. And she is most happy there, at home, safe with the people and things she knows best. We frequently find her splayed out on the floor, kicking her feet in contentment.
We'll have to baby-proof more diligently with Ashlyn than we did with Evyn.
Evyn caught on to rules and no-nos very quickly. I only had to make a buzzer noise one time and she'd walk away. That just eggs Ashlyn on, who has a knack for finding the most dangerous or most expensive items in the house to play with. See this pointy, sharp, heavy thing? Evyn would instinctively know to avoid it. It's Ashlyn's favorite thing to mess with (I've moved it).
Of course, as I type this, Ashlyn is chewing on the cord to my laptop. Wait, she's moved on to chewing Evyn's toes. You might think that's gross. I think it's hilarious. She adores Evyn, and it's only more obvious the more she messes with her.
We celebrated the day rather simply. Evyn and Daddy baked a cake for her.
And while we had to coax and prod Evyn into touching her very first cake, Ashlyn had no problem digging in.
She is. My Doll-Baby. Happy Birthday, Squishy Sweetness.