47. Speaking of death by cuteness, you've decided the camera's a pretty cool thing.

39. You've been keeping us busy! You started scooching about on your belly, throwing your arms forward and then bending them to drag your body forward, uh . . . sometime. A while ago. In November, maybe?

40. You didn't take to the solid foods instantly, but one day it suddenly all made sense. You were hungry, we offered you something more interesting than rice cereal, you shoved it in with your hands--no spoons!--and WOW! That was good! Now I have a hard time keeping you from trying to chew and swallow anything in my hands.

41. This morning you scooched yourself over to a laundry basket full of board games, gnawed on the corner of one game for a moment, then tried to pull yourself up to standing.

42. Given your habit of waking in the middle of the night to practice getting to your hands and knees and then launching yourself forward at high speed, I find #41 rather unettling. I hope you understand that you're supposed to crawl on your hands and knees before you start walking.

43. You continue to charm everyone you beam at. And you beam at anything that moves with intent. Dogs, cats, birds, and people, people, people.

44. But I'm still your other half, and lately you want to be in physical contact with me all the time.

45. You still adore Ellie, and beam at her just as readily as you beam at anyone else. If you're asleep when we pick her up, you'll sleep through the door opening and me moving around, but as soon as you hear Ellie's voice you wake up enough to smile at her, even if you then have to cry with exhaustion.

46. Every now and then I glance back and Ellie is holding your hand, and I almost die from the cuteness.