First Act of Mischief

This morning, after breakfast, I put Amalia on the kitchen floor to play. In the past, she's been content to sit and play with anything she can reach for at arms length. If it requires her to move, she's not interested.

I left the room for a minute or two, came back, only to be utterly shocked. Amalia, gracious angel that she is, had committed her first real act of mischief. Up to this point, I lie not, she has never done anything wrong. No trying to devise ways to jump out of her crib, or unravel tapes, pull books off shelves, or throw herself off couches like her brothers both did at her age. No, our sweet angel has been the picture of perfect: cute, content, doesn't give us a worry in the world. So when I found her UNDER the kitchen table (at least 5 feet from where I had put her down), chewing on a piece of aluminum foil that she had managed to unravel from the roll, I was amazed. My first reaction was, "Who put her there?" But then quickly realized no one would have put her under the table, she did it of her own volition. It is then that I was faced with the stark reality that our chubby cherub is no longer. Chubby, yes, cherub, well, not for very much longer, because as you can see from these pictures, she's getting ready to really take off and pretty soon so she's going to be into all sorts of things: pulling the toilet paper of the roll; getting a hold of choking hazards like plastic, pennies, and marbles; eating things off the ground (which is easy to do on my kitchen floor!); trying to get into the best toy of all, the garbage can; and many other fun-filled but anxiety producing (for mom!) activities.

Amalia's got a gun....
Failing to thrive? I think not, as evidenced by ample love handles and chubby fingers.

"Now if I can only figure out how to use this thing..."

Ready, set, go!

"I'm looking for my daddy? Have you seen him? I need to give him a kiss!"

"What's over there??"

At the cusp of crawling.

The joy of our lives.