I've been meaning to tell you for about a month that our dear, sweet infant is now a toddler. This is where it gets fun. She walks. She runs. She climbs off of beds and the couch on her own. She goes up and down stairs at will and without assistance. She hates being cooped up in a stroller, wagon, or shopping cart; this girl wants to MOVE.
About a week before Ruby officially began walking, Abe and I were scheduled to be in Nursery B, which is the 12-18 month "early walkers" nursery. Our church is a little bit big, and our nurseries are crazy; no mere infant Nursery for us, no sir. We've got to separate them by ambulatory prowess. At this point in time, Ruby was still in Nursery A, "infants," because she was not yet walking. We thought it would be nice to have her in the nursery with us, though, so we temporarily bumped her up. I don't know if it was the power of suggestion or what, but within a week of being with all of those Early Walkers, she joined their ranks. She just stopped wanting to crawl and started running.
On a side note, she's a bit behind on her Well-Baby doctors' visits (she's my third child; what can I say), so I really have no concrete knowledge about her percentiles or anything, but when I saw her next to all of these other children her age--instead of standing next to a three month-old--I was astounded at how small she is. It's not like she's a dwarf or something (at least I don't think so...), but she is a tiny little peanut by comparison.
What she lack in size, though, she makes up in cuteness. And ambulatory prowess.