You're gonna be a star, kid...

Would someone explain to me how exactly I was able to convince myself, in the sweet, quiet days of my idyllic pregnancy, that I was going to spawn a quiet, laid-back, placid, easy-going child? I mean, really. Where in the depths of my hormone-drunk mind did I think THAT was a possibility? It ranks up there with my Ronald-McDonald-red hair days and imbibing 21 shots of liquor on my 21st birthday on my list of "Things That Sounded Like They'd Be Totally Possible At The Time."

Basic math should have clued me in that my husband A and I -- both very opinionated, obstinate, aggressive personalities -- would spawn another hell raiser. When you combine things, they increase, not disperse.

That being said, it's amazing, at 6.5 months, how much Punky's personality is beginning to shine through. She's hard-headed and opinionated, spunky and outgoing. She finds something the wants, and she goes for it. When she has it, she keeps it. When she wants something, she lets it be known. I discovered she knew how to crawl when she started taking off after the dog. (Which is pretty similar to all those zombie movies, where the zombies are clearly more slow-moving than their victims, but somehow they still manage to catch up to the living and eat their brains.)

But don't let me be misunderstood. I have so much fun with her. She is smiley and giggles, she loves to cuddle up in the rocking chair or in bed with me, and pending there's nothing else she wants to pursue at the given moment, she's content to clutch on to my shirt, hook onto my hip, and go along for the ride.

So while A and I probably statistically CAN'T make a low-key child, I could think of worse things. Though I definitely fear the day she starts talking more than the day she starts walking. Mobile baby I can deal with. But baby spouting out anarchist rhetoric -- the world may not be ready for her out in mainstream just yet.