At six months old, Auden loves being on my hip and included in all my conversations. She belly laughs when her brother throws his little tragic tantrums. But giggles even louder when he shows her attention. She gets very offended if it turns dark outside and she is not starting her lengthy bedtime routine. She beams proudly when her father compliments her. If I'm not feeding her fast enough, she grabs my face and begins to gnaw on my chin. If her father doesn't talk to her while buckling her into her car seat, she cries crocodile tears. If her brother is not paying her the proper amount of attention (all of it) she squawks at him until he does. I spent Friday night all weepy-eyed compiling a video montage. Saturday morning, she awoke all rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, and six months old. My heart breaks for the chicken legged sweet smelling newborn with the spiky soft hair that could fit in her father's palm and at any moment cuddle asleep on my chest. But, at the same ...