The Mighty Biscuit

My little Clairebear turned 10 months old on Monday, bringing her within two mere months of her first birthday, and making her mommy very sad about the swift passage of time. Because I don't know how it's possible, but our little baby Biscuit has gotten even more lovable and full of fabulous and I need her to freeze in this baby, pre-toddler stage for at least 3-4 years.

At 10 months, Claire is busy. She has no regard for her own safety. She is constantly moving. She has much to say. She will not be ignored. She is playful; she will chase you. She will crawl straight off your bed, fall to the ground, and keep on crawling. She hugs. She wants to help. She will smile over her shoulder with a mix of joy and devilment before crawling full speed towards the nearest electrical outlet, yanking out your phone charger, and popping it in her mouth. She can do anything anyone bigger can do, and probably do it better.

She falls asleep in seconds, she wakes up happy. She eats everything, including many inedible objects and every food product we have given her. She grabs at her hair when frustrated. She squawks when she wants the food on your plate. She smiles all the times in between. She wants to do everything her brother does. She does everything her brother does. She loves her dogs. She adores her daddy. She stands unassisted. She tries to walk. She falls down smiling. She giggles. She wants to bump foreheads. She is fascinated by the shower. She alternatively loves and hates the bathtub. She likes music and bops up and down to the beat. She wants to be chased. She likes to be held, except when she wants to go faster than speed at which you are carrying her. She is fierce. She loves her mommy.

She is the mighty Biscuit. And she couldn't be move loved, nor could she love us more in return. For all my amazement that she's already ten months old, most of the time I just can't believe we've only known her that long.