We may have made a mistake in naming Meg. Her middle name really should be danger.
Meg's last month has been filled with death defying leaps, stunt crawls, eating things they wouldn't put on "Fear Factor," and basically looking common sense in the face and laughing. She no longer wants to wear her straps in her car seat, or in any other seat for that matter, and will get out of them in seconds if she can. Once she is out of them she will try and stand, or reach, or twirl or jump, regardless of if she on a chair that can tip, a shopping cart four feet off the ground, or in a moving car. You know, because that's how she rolls.
She climbs like she is trying to reach a world record, or give me a heart attack. If I turn around for a moment she gets up on a chair, then the table, and is reaching for the chandelier by the time I look back. Last night I walked maybe three steps away from her to get a blanket from her crib, and when I turned back she was up on the rocking chair, with one foot on the bookcase, reaching for a decorative toy that is most definitely a choking hazard.
Of course, every hero has an Achilles' heel, and Meg's is people who want to give her attention. Yes, that is when she becomes "shy" and buries her head into my legs or Ryan's shoulders, pretending she just can't stand the thought of facing the cold cruel world.
The minute they stop paying attention though? She's strapping on her waterskis and getting ready to jump that shark -- wearing her leather jacket, of course.
Oh, how we love our girl.