Needy

There are so many charming phases of babyhood, aren't there? The ones that keep us coming back for more, like sleeping on our chests, cooing adorably, or offering dazzling smiles that all the cameras in the world couldn't adequately capture. These are the things we post about on our blogs, in our scrapbooks, or even update on Facebook. The stuff we choose to remember.

Then there are the "This, too, shall pass" moments that we conveniently forget about after a while, such that when they resurface you swear your other children were never like this. Maybe that's just a phenomenon specific to mothers, as dads never seem to wax quite as poetically about babies, and Tim is quick to assure me that all of our babies went through the needy, clingy, fussy stage that plagues Laura (and me!) of late. Wow. There is no pleasing her, my left bicep is overly developed, and I have missed 50% of what Clare and Danny have tried to tell me the past several afternoons thanks to Laura's caterwauling (knowing those two, though, you know I've still heard plenty).

We've diagnosed her with the classic frustration of not being able to communicate, or walk, with the added issue of not wanting to share my attention with anyone else. Good times. I get this view a lot lately:


All is not lost, however, as she still cheerfully does this:


and this:


As we repeatedly tell her, it's a good thing she's cute!