Maya: Five months now…

Seventeen years and seven months to go.

Just kidding. 

Pretty much, anyway.

This is going to be short and sweet because she’s asleep, which means I can sleep.  Which means I should sleep.  As in right now.  The little stinker had her first tooth pop through the other day.  Her face bends in a dozen different directions as she rubs her tongue across the spikes that emerged from her smooth gums.  She can’t figure it out yet. 

Another thing she can’t quite figure out is the crawling thing, but that doesn’t stop her from trying:

Other than that, as the saying goes, she’s growing like a weed.  A beautiful weed.

Grandma and Maya:


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