I love her laugh because it's this shrimpy little midget laugh and I'm addicted to it. I will juggle flaming knives just to hear it for a second. I love her thighs! Her chunky little drumsticks are so delicious and I am going to cry when they are gone. I love how I can describe her as just stacks of circles (layers of Michelin Man-like spheres stacked on top of each other, a perfectly round head, perfect Japanimation round eyes) and people get a fairly good picture of what she looks like. I love that when she is tired, she wraps her little arms around me and grabs me with her monkey-paws and lays her head on my shoulder. I love her voice, her talking and practicing, the breathy urgency in her expressions. I love the way she breathes when she is excited, like she can barely contain herself. I love how curious she is, always looking for something new and different. I love how anything that passes even remotely close to her mouth makes her almost close and bat her eyes as she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. I love that she has to lick everything. I love the good mood she is in in the morning. I love that her hair is starting to get curly in the back. I love that it's reddish, gold brown. I love that her eyes are bronze. Most might say they are brown, but they are bronze. I love that she looks best in bold colors, because mama HATES pastels! I love how proud of herself she is when she pulls herself up, or gets something she knows she probably shouldn't have. I love that she is my companion, partner in crime, my buddy. I love that she is me, but not at all me. I love seeing her unfold as this person on her own path, doing her own thing, and I have such an enormous amount of pride that she came from me, from my body, that I grew her. I love sleeping with her, snuggled up, so warm breathing slow and deep. I love her smell. I love her sense of adventure, and her fearlessness. I love it when I am holding her, and a stranger comes up to say "hello", and she gets shy and smiles as she buries her face in my chest. I love that when the dogs are fighting and wrestling, she gets excited and cheers them on. I can almost hear her yelling, "Get that little dog!" I love that I can't get enough of her, even when she is driving me crazy. I miss her the moment she is gone. I miss her when she goes to bed for the night, and I spend the rest of the evening looking at pictures of her. I love her because she made me a mama, and I'm good at it. She helped me find myself and my purpose. I love that she helps to keep my spirits up, and helps keep me healthy. As I prepare for battle, she is my courage.