This morning I cleaned out our closet and dresser. While I did that, Eisley was sleeping soundly in the bassinet nearby.

When I was nearly finished with the mess of clothes, I headed downstairs with trash bags and made myself a cup of coffee (darn you International Delights Creamer and darn you King Sooper's for having it on sale every week) and headed back upstairs.

Eisley was not still sleeping anymore but gazing around the room in silence, pacifier in her mouth.

She beckoned me to take a picture of her, and I gave in like I always do when she nags me to take her picture {not with words, mind you, but with her cuteness}. Then she told me to email it to daddy, which I did {see above}. I was baby-talking to her, she reached up and tried to pull my lips off with her baby claws. She did her double-eyebrow-raise, looking very much like Groucho Marx.

Then I burped. Loudly. Apparently I'd gulped down coffee too fast. I giggled and excused myself, but Eisley stared up at me with wide eyes, seeming uncertain about the strange noise I'd just made and not quite sure how to respond.

She turned the tables on me. Now it was I who stared wide-eyed at her. She is, truly, her mother's daughter.