Baby baby...

My baby is barely a baby anymore. She's crawling everywhere, she pulls herself to standing, she has almost a mouthful of teeth! The teeth really get me...it seems quite ludicrous how many she has. Arran got his first tooth at 7 1/2 months, and at the same age Asia had her sixth already.

She is so animated, she loves to bounce and clap to music and does this scrunched-up-nose-smile that just melts me. My other two were skinny little babies but she is my chunky monkey, complete with thunder thighs and short stubby legs. She has brought me SO much joy, as have all my children, but I think I'm cherishing her in a different way, just knowing (that unless something miraculous happens) she's our last baby. Of course she's the one that is doing everything early and seems to be growing and changing the fastest, I just wish I could slow it all down. I already find myself thinking about the fact that the next time I'll be this close to a baby and have anywhere near this sort of a bond, is when I'm a grandma! Is it crazy to be thinking that way at my age? I don't know, but these thoughts run through my head every now and again.

Maybe, if we ever move back to England, nieces and nephews (whenever they start to arrive) will be able to help fill the void too. But who knows how big that 'if' is?