Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't Katie.

I've made a few observations about my baby recently.

The first has to do with a baby shower I attended last week. As most of the people attending were moms, there were also several babies in attendance. One such was baby Nora, who is only a month older than Katie, and we discovered that they have similar interests. They seemed to have trouble sharing the plush basketball, though there were lots of other toys, and they both seemed rather intent on gouging the other's eyes out. (It was slightly more of an ambition for my baby. Sorry, Nora.)

But most of all, I noticed a big difference between Katie and the other babies there. Including the two-week-old for whom the shower was being held. And it had much to do with the color of their hair.

Blondies are baldies.

It's true! The other babies there were all brunettes, and even the newest ones had a little tuft of hair that was at least close to ponytail worthy. Their luxurious locks would probably have been blowing in the wind had we not been in somebody's living room. But Katie, my little blonde angel baby, has a slight amount of fuzz that is nowhere near visible from any kind of distance.

And looking back at my ward in Provo, where we were surrounded by babies of all shapes and sizes, I realize that it is true! There were plenty of brunette babies who had more hair than me, and there were little blond babies who couldn't even work up a good solid bedhead until they were two! Oh man, it's a good thing the Katie lets me stick bows and flowers on her head.

Another observation I have made about my baby is that she is much bigger than I had planned on her being already. She's going to be eight months old on Sunday. Doesn't that freak you guys out? She's a big 'ole chub-a-lub baby. (Which is weird because she always used to be the skinniest kid around.)

Also, she would much rather walk than crawl. We've been painstakingly putting things she wants just far enough to make her try to crawl, but she always gets impatient and just scoots on her bum. I know she can crawl, but she refuses to do it. Walking, on the other hand, she thinks is the bees' knees. She's always pulling herself up to standing on whatever she can grab--bookshelves, the bar underneath my rocking chair, my pant leg, etc. And she thinks it's hilarious when I hold her hands and let her walk to somebody instead of just carrying her. I think we're not far from it.

Mike even had to move the crib mattress down so that she can't jump over the side because, oh boy, she is definitely tall enough to do it.

STOP GROWING UP SO FAST, BABY!!!