Move over Muhammad Ali, there's a new boxing champ in town. And she's a pistol. Baby's gotta new game, it's called "Punch whoever holds me as hard and as fast as I can." Lovely.
It started a few days ago. She has newly discovered her hands and boy! Does she know how to use them. Got a drink in your hand? Not anymore. Wearing glasses? Not anymore. Nice, thin lips? Not anymore. Well, maybe that last one is a good thing. I had been toying with the idea of collagen injections. I figure now with how strong my precious is getting, I will have that Angelina Jolie look for the next dozen years or so. I'll be a toothless Angelina, but that's just a minor detail we can work out later. Teeth are highly overrated in my opinion, I mean babies don't need them. I'll just eat through a straw. Might even drop a few pounds in the process. Call it the new heroin chic.
Seriously, I hope this is a development that fazes itself out. She hits everything. The dog won't come within 50 feet of her. My husband suddenly has things that need done right away. That leaves me holding the bag, er baby. Hence, the fat lip and crooked glasses.
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