Meemers, Mimi, A-moo-moo, Amelia

Little Amelia is now 4 months old. She reaches for stuff--hair, earrings, toys--with a decidely determined look, wrapping her delicate little fingers around and holding on for dear life. Although she is small compared to the other girls at this age (and compared to the two little boys at her daycare home, who are younger and about twice as big), she seems so big compared to when she was born. Her legs are plumping up, with rolls and dimples. She prefers to be held in a standing position, although she's pretty fond of sitting up, too. She dispenses big, gummy, open-mouthed smiles freely, but saves the biggest smiles for her sisters. She loves the lady who cares for her when we're working, whose name is also Amelia, and giggles in anticipation as soon as we get to her front door. In the last two weeks, she has discovered her own feet, pulling off her socks, grabbing those toes, and falling over to one side while holding them. On the day we moved into the house, she rolled over as I was changing her diaper, just plunk-plunk, back-to-front and back again! When we do not give her what she believes she has asked for, she breaks into this panicked cry, as though she will never again be fed. (For the uninitiated this invokes fear that something is truly wrong. But nothing is.) Example: she is fussing (which, for all you non-parents is quite different from crying) and is hungry. I pick her up, walk with her into the kitchen and carry her as I finish whatever I was doing. Then I hand her briefly to her dad so I can, say, pour myself a glass of water before preparing to feed her. This is when the panicked, breathless wail ensues--I asked to be fed and you gave me to the guy without the right equipment! Oh, no, I will starve! Take me back! Now! Even handing her back to me does not quiet the fury, only the item of concern (the milk) will do. This is a girl who knows what she wants and is not at all interested in anything else!

We love our Meemers!