Jemma, 21 months

Oops! We've been having such a spectacular day, what with neighbors cavorting in the front yard, making and eating this yummy bread and apple cider popsicles, drinking Ichabod pumpkin beer, and watching Michigan win their football game that I almost forgot to write about Jemma and who she is on the 21-month anniversary of entering the world.

She spent the day trying desperately to ride bikes and scooters that are far too big for her, then settling for scuttling, Flintstone-style, up and down the sidewalk on Annie's red tricycle. She is fast. She ate a piece of bacon cheddar bread while we were outside, and I swear she had it in her hand for a full hour before it was finally gone. She went down the slide a million times; toward the end of the day, she got brave and was going down head first, saying "Whoa" when she got to the bottom and then scrambling to do it again, anyway.

When we read books before naptime and bedtime, she has definite opinions about which ones she wants. "Pillar," she says for The Very Hungry Caterpillar (my favorite); "Babies," she says for Baby Faces (her favorite). Afterwards, she arranges her blanket up on my left shoulder so it drapes down my chest, then leans in and snuggles me for a minute before I sing to her and put her in the crib. Tonight, I smelled her head for an extra second or two before setting her down on her stomach for a night of slumber. She smelled like a cookie.