Little Olympian

Up until last night, my baby has been more or less a potato in cute clothes. She can’t sit up, crawl or walk yet, so mostly she’s just lying around watching ceiling fans spin or grinning so broadly that you just want to melt onto the floor into a puddle of happiness because she’s just the cutest little potato baby you’ve ever seen in your life.

But somebody flipped a switch in her sometime in the last few days, and she’s suddenly realized that she’s tired of being a potato and she can actually do stuff. So she decided to make it her mission in life to roll over from her back to her stomach.

We were over at Rob’s mom’s house last night, and Kaylee was in a crib in the living room, straining and struggling to achieve her little milestone. All the adults gathered around and watched, cheering her on and giving her tips:

“Come on, you can do it, Kaylee!”
“You’re almost there … almost there … awwww, so close.”
“Just pull that left arm out from under you and you’ll have it.”

After a while, she gave up and fell asleep, and we gave up and ate dinner. But after some refreshing shut-eye, she was up and at it again. After a few tries, she finally got it and found herself face-down, possibly trying to figure out why her parents, grandmother and uncle were suddenly jumping around and cheering like she’d just won an Olympic gold medal.

Of course, as soon as Kaylee managed to roll onto her stomach, she remembered that she doesn’t like being on her stomach and whined until I picked her up.

It would have taken some sort of catastrophic natural disaster to get the smiles off of Rob’s and my faces for the rest of the night. Because has anything so amazing ever happened before in the history of the world? Has any other baby ever been such a wonderful genius?

Surely not.