It's going to happen soon. She's going to be crawling, maybe even before my birthday.

When she was newly born and she was so quiet and easy-going, I worried that perhaps she wouldn't be motivated enough to get around on her own. Maybe she would be one of those happy little lumps that always made us say (after we'd left the party) "You know, Jason may be kind of a handful, but I'm glad to have a kid that's at least interesting." (I know, we were assholes. Some of us still are.¹)

But, no, Eva's got spark. She wants to get around. When I got home from work today I saw that she had pushed herself backwards into a corner and gotten stuck; as soon as she saw me—but not before—she cried for help. And every little thing that catches her attention, she wants it. She's not content and boring. No, this one is motivated.

I'm so happy to know that it runs in the family.

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¹ I mean me, of course. No one who has met both of us would ever be confused about that.