My Baby's not a Baby Anymore

A year ago today I gave birth to a tiny babe. It was a good time had by all.

And now she is pretty much a toddler. For a few months now I have had a walker on my hands. And a climber. Together they can be a dangerous combo.

I keep turning around to find her on top of high places smiling from ear to ear and attempting to launch herself into space. Not necessarily off the sides. Upward.

Today on her birthday I found her on my bed. Jumping. Laughing.

For about a week now, she has been climbing on top of the kids table and standing on top of it. Jumping. It's alarming.

Thankfully. I am usually about an arm's reach away from her and have a pretty vocal police force, aka Team Davy, on duty at all times. Sometimes Team Davy uses brute force to keep Gianna out of what she assumes is harm's way. Unfortunately we have had to deal with a fair share of injuries due to this enforcement. Headlocks, two armed shoving, tackling, or kicking are all techniques which have been employed to "keep Gianna safe."

Tomorrow I am planning to hold a meeting and flesh out some new strategies that are less violent.

On a positive note, Gianna is tough. She holds her own. And she still looks cute. Davy can hardly take her down at times. And as a mom, it's hard not to be a little proud. Except, for the small fact, that she is my tiny princess baby girl. And my taller princess and her are WWF-style wrestling

Happy Birthday my other little wild thing.