An Extremely Long Post, Because We Can Hardly Keep Up

It's like Invasion of the Body Snatchers at our house, really.

These days, we seem to find someone entirely new in Nora's crib each morning. Babyhood is fading way, way too fast. We're merging onto the autobahn of toddlerdom, holding on tight as Nora leads the way, flung out like flags behind her, squinting our eyes closed and wishing not just a little bit that we could slow it all down.

She's telling us what to do these days - in no uncertain terms.

She grabs hold of our legs, and firmly says, "Up!" (sort of like "UH-puh!" ).

She points, arm straight out before her, like a miniature Lewis or Clark, in the direction of what or where.

She shakes her head vehemently from side to side if we a) try to feed her something she doesn't want; b) try to kiss her one too many times; c) try to hand her the wrong item; or d) suggest, in falsely bright and cheery tones, a diaper change.

We can't fool her much, anymore. The switch and bait technique is a thing of the past. Peekaboo is a fascinating distraction only when it's initiated by her (and then it's HILARIOUS!). She's extremely clear about what interests her, and what doesn't, and no quantity of rousing enthusiasm from her parents can convince her otherwise. Sorting through the lower pantry shelves is endlessly entertaining, any forbidden electronic device is passionately desired, and dada's sock drawer brings her giddy pleasure. We don't even bother putting things back in order until she's fast asleep ...

She's super intense about the things that bother her - the froggy washcloth glove is very disturbing and not allowed into her bath water. Today, she was completely weirded out by Nonna's red socks. Certain books have inexplicably troublesome content, and she still doesn't abide by toys that make electronic noise, even cute little ducky quacks. She looks at us, squints her eyes, purses her lips, and whimpers. Hmmm ... m'kay, then.

A couple of weeks ago, she started kissing people and things. And pictures in her books. And the elephant on her sippy cup. And the gargoyle magnet on the fridge. And her own image in the mirror. Better yet, she makes that universal, "Awwww!" sound of recognizing cuteness when she sees it. Her kisses vary from actual pursed and smacking lips, to a quick dip of her head toward her object of affection. Either way, it'll pierce right through your heart, man.

She's wildly expressive - she whips her head around to look at us, makes a perfect little "O" with her mouth and widens her eyes when she hears a noise, or drops something, or sees someone come to the door or a dog run by on the street. She still does that crazy finger waving, jazz-hands move when she's excited about something ...

Every night, she picks an object to carry around with her AT ALL COSTS for a couple of hours before bed. Often, it's a sock. Occasionally a finger puppet. Don't ask. We have no idea.

She dances to anything resembling a tune - her music box, mama's singing, Radiohead, Johnny Cash ... she holds onto the coffee table and waves her butt back and forth, or sways side to side, and she knows exactly where the volume knob is on her uncle's stereo ...

Oh, there's so much. Everyday, she brings us something new.