She giggles! (Earlier this week.)

She rolls over! (Just now!)

A spectacularly good-humored baby, she also cheerily puts up with her grandfather. We’re having a wonderful time together. After particular…effortful…moments, we’ve begun to collaborate on something that Mrs. Tingley, the very proper ballroom dancing teacher of my youth, would not have approved of. It consists of B standing unsteadily on my lap and my holding her hands above her head while she jiggles and bounces. We call it the poopy dance. Then we head for the changing table, from which she looks up with a beatific smile of encouragement.