Roby rules and I haven’t written about that fact in too long. She is the best. By far better than anyone else on earth. It’s not even particularly close. All she does is giggle and dance and run around and scream. Her new favorite thing is begging for a sippy cup of broth or yogurt or something hard to clean, then she cries to get on my shoulders, or to be held, then she throws it to the ground so that it explodes everywhere. I think she knows exactly what she’s doing because she’s a genius. 

She’s been pretty rambunctious with loads of screaming and grabbing and trouble causing. She must handle her fork, she must have some of your drink, she must have more water, she MUST stand in the peach crate. 

She’s tough to be upset with though, at least I’m surprised with how little I’ve been frustrated with her. Screaming, not eating, not wanting to get dressed not wanting to be on the toiler, throwing a bunch of fermented yogurt drink all over the ground and my knit slippers then screaming some more and not wanting to be held by me, then she’ll giggle and make the most ridiculous face I’ve ever seen.
 
She is just the best, and I want to spend more time with her, and I already spend loads.