Your weight in my arms

When people hold Ada for the first time (or fiftieth time), they never fail to comment on how active she is.

"She's an out-facing baby, isn't she?"

"Does she usually move this much?"

"You've got a pistol on your hands."

"She's so bright eyed and curious!"

Yes, yes, true, true.

She's all of those things. And I usually joke that I wish I could slip her some Tylenol and just cuddle with her every once in a while. (She's too curious to cuddle, you see).

But in reality, she is becoming more snuggley almost everyday. When she gets tired she puts her head on my chest and pulls her hands up to the sides of her face. As she falls asleep she likes when I put my forehead to hers and I hold her while whispering about beautiful things. She softly grabs a fistful of my hair and tickles it on her cheek.

I think she likes me. And for all the times that she would rather be on the floor than in my arms I am grateful, because it makes the moments when we are close even that much more sweet.