In many ways, her firsts are my firsts. With my first three children all 18 months apart, their firsts are understandably a blur in my mind. I recall just wishing for that next milestone: If only they would roll over, sit up, eat solid food, crawl, talk, walk, poop in the stinkin' potty! I don't recall relishing the stage of the moment very well. This little girl is my second chance (okay, my fourth chance?). I never understood mothers who claimed they didn't want their babies to grow up. Why not? I get it now. I'm there. I'm the mother who could watch her baby practice pincer skills with Cheerios all day long. Sure, it ends in a big mess, but I have no intention of stopping her from discovering gravity. It's adorable.