Of all the things I fully expected to amaze me about my daughter, her level of trust was not one of them. I knew that would happen, but I thought it would be at a year and a half when she's jumping into my arms in the pool, or something like that.

I'm in awe of so much of her. Her tiny gargantuan-hood. Her huge smile when my face pops up above her crib. The way she snuggles into me to sleep after a 3 am snack. I love that she likes to hold her own hands these days, as though reminding herself that they are both there. Her new excitement and interest in the sound of her own voice and how high pitched she can make it.  The proud look she gets on her face when I put her in the exersaucer and she stands without me. Did I mention her 3 zillion watt smile? She is incredible, and she dazzles me every day.

Yesterday, the little chit (short for 'chitlin,' btw. I said it out loud and Ryan almost got very pissed that I called our daughter a little...poo. I think I picked up "chitlin" from reading Gone With The Wind 15 years ago. I digress...what the hell was I talking about...)

Okay, so Aurora needed a bath, and I needed a shower, so I decided it would be an excellent time for Rory to take her first shower with me. I put the water at a level of freezing that Ryan usually considers warm, and held the kiddo and the hand held shower head. The kid was concerned. Clearly, having water fall on you is an unnatural state. I held her, Ryan scrubbed her (I didn't trust myself to hold the slippery little boogins) and I rinsed her off.

She glared at the falling water (which, really, should have frozen it right there. The kid has a mean glare). She contemplated how it felt. She decided maybe it wasn't for her. And she almost got fussy a couple times.

But then, she'd look up at me, check to make sure all was well, and decide it must be ok. It was amazing. I don't even trust my own judgement that much.