And just like that, she was a little girl.

On the 11th, Maya will be 18 months old. Three days ago I looked over to see her wiping her bangs out of her face, then tossing her head to shake them back. And just like that, she was a little girl. Tonight I found myself blog hopping, and landed on a sad story of a sweet family who lost their 18 month old girl. I didn't last long before closing my laptop and charging into Maya's room, checking to make sure she was alright. Which of course she was, and always is. But I scooped her up and rocked her in the rocking chair for half an hour, feeling her weight over my chest, her little spriggy hairdo tickling my nose.

Maya only weighs in at 20 pounds. In fact, that's the same weight she claimed at her 12 month appointment. That has her pediatrician a little concerned. Thinking about it, I realized in the last month Maya's been flitting around this house like a little pixie, while eating like a bird. She nibbles on a few bites, then tries to leave her high chair by way of parachute (or at least that's what she must think is going to happen when she wriggles out of the harness and stands straight up, ready to leap down to the ground). There's a lot of, "Wes, where's Maya?" and "Finn, is Maya safe?" and "Maya!!!! GET OUT OF THERE!!!!" going on around here. She's active. She's curious. She SPUNKY (as Wes aptly described her today). She's got some attitude in her arsenal, and she's not afraid to use it. Today I saw her walk right up to Finn, wind up, and smack him in the chest. Then she turned and giggled at me. She'll come up to me, open her mouth wide to show me something that she's not supposed to have in her mouth, then turn and hightail it out of there before I can catch her, laughing all the way. If I tell her "no," she just shakes her head right back at me, smiling with her dimply cheeks.

I've noticed she's getting a little tired of the boyish, and even gender-neutral toys in the toybox. She brings me tutus from her room, holding them up, asking me to put them on. She watches Tinker Bell with fascination, calling her "Bell Bell Bell." She stands in my closet looking lovingly at all my shoes. Then she flings them all on the floor as fast as she can, leaving the scene of the crime before I can catch her in the act (she's got a tattle-tale of a brother, that's for sure). She talks on her Ariel toy cell phone throughout the day, having babbling conversations. She loves the Cozy Coup car in our backyard, and holds the door shut with both tiny hands, so that Finn can't yank her out for his turn. The girl dances with arms up and hips swaying all over the room at music class. She gives open-mouthed kisses, and THROWS herself into your arms for hugs.

She's all mine, and I love her dearly. But I'm willing to share...