keeping up

We have a legitimate toddler on our hands. I didn't really get when that whole baby to toddler transition hit before this week. I thought it was a bit premature to call Elie a toddler when she has barely any hair, can't walk, and a measly four teeth. She's still just a baby, already, I naively told myself.

But things are changing around here. You know that image of the mom who can never sit down because she's always chasing after her kid who is always up to some wild thing. And the kid always has this crazed look in her eyes and is making all sorts of primal sorts of sounds, but making no sense? That's my girl. Yesterday she managed to crawl right out of the house, across the deck, down the steps and then into her little stroller that was out on the grass. I got to her just as the stroller, which is really flimsy, was about to tip over backwards with her in it. She goes to her dresser, opens up the bottom drawer, and hurls all of her clothes all over the room. She does the vietnam belly crawl under her crib and finds the most fascinating things, including huge dust bunnies and wayward legos. She pulls books off of the shelves and flips through them really quickly like she's super fascinated, and then tosses them to the side. She crawls at a million miles an hour over to Lucy's doggie bed, stands up, and then hurls herself into the nasty big cushion. She then rolls around on the bed with this huge grin like she's just arrived in her own private suite at the Waldorf.

Jeff and I stare at each other in disbelief constantly repeating our new household mantra, "Do you have her?"