Word.

New words this week: "ball", "cat", "egg", "bird" (without the D), "star", and "spider". Okay, "ball" and "cat" are pretty much par for the course. Nothing special there. She may even be a little late on those. Venus has been particularly brilliant lately, and, well, so I bent the rules and let her call it "star". The IAU will forgive me once she can identify what constellations are visible in SoCal's well-lit nights. So, "star" it is, for now. Now, "spider"... I wish I knew. Actually, maybe I don't.

She's walking confidently now. Even short distances which would just last month have been crawling now require a WALL-E style standing effort (complete with Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra), two short steps, and then a landing: half grace, half dropping a sack of groceries. Oh, and of course the satisfied giggle. Her range is increasing, too. Stephanie's mother watched Hannah the other night and we neglected to mention her full-blown mobility. Oops. It's probably time to look into tricycles. Any recommendations?

We spent an afternoon last weekend at Dana Point, and Hannah cackled and squealed while running through the outgoing tide. Wet sand is, apparently, fascinating. She would stop, grab two fistfuls, cackle, take a few steps with wet sand oozing down her arms and clothes, then stop, stare at the ground in amazement, grab two more fistfuls of sand, ... over and over and over. Somewhere I have photos. Kelp bladders: also fascinating to babies. Ask yourself: if a tiny human being holds up a soggy, sand-coated, brown kelp bladder, thrusts it towards you and asks, "Da?" What word would tell her belongs to that object?

Maybe "spider".