Last Monday, while we were celebrating lucky number seven (years of married bliss) Piper was reveling in a milestone of her own: the big 1-0 (months on earth).
The sappy sentiments that go with my monthly posts are getting redundant at this point....But it's all so very true. I love her more each day. Not in the abstract cliche way, but in the- Seriously, she gets more fun, more adorable, more real-live-little-person great everyday- way. I thought three months was my favorite. Until we hit four. Then I loved nine. But ten is my new best-yet. I know babies are a pretty great lot in general, but I'm almost certain we got one of the very best out there. (If you're not convinced, feel free to borrow her for a day. I may adore her, but I'm not above a date night out.) We're less than two months away from the real deal milestone- the big 0-1 YEARS. And the only thing that keeps me from constantly weeping over the unceasing maturing of my baaaay-bee, is the hope that it'll just keep getting better.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.