Memo To Emmy: 17 Months

You are so cute. For real. Run and tell that, homegirl.

Mama is so proud of snapping this FEEE-YIERCE photo. America's Next Top Baby has arrived, y'all!

The eyes. The pout. The belly. The pointed toe. The subtle gathering of the pant. But what kills is the lean. Mr. Jay would die.

How does it feel to be the most loved human being on earth? We have no way of knowing for sure, because you refuse to talk.

You understand everything, of course. Not just words but sentences, "Go get the blue Pilates mat, Emmy. No, not that. Over there. Behind you. Yes. YES! Good girl Emmy!" This makes you officially smarter than Romeo and Tofu. They can't even poop in a toilet yet.

Your appetite is healthy and dare I say, epicurious. You've eaten caviar, chilled corn soup with pickled cucumbers, curried polenta, pork belly bao sandwiches with plum sauce, creamy gazpacho, basil gelato, and tiramisu! And that was all in one day, when you rode around in your stroller like a C to the hampion at the first ever sold-out Taste of Sonoma. (Thanks for the free tickets, NBC Bay Area.) You were one of oh, 10 people under 3 feet tall that we saw at the event. Not counting little people. Was it appropriate to bring you? Heck no! But you sat in your little Daisy Dukes and red and white checkered tank top and waited for Dada to bring you all sorts of delicious hors' doeuvres prepared by the finest chefs. And you nom nommed them right down into your baby gullet. Anthony Bourdain would be proud.

All of those calories are helping you grow like a little sprout. Daddy is actually a little bit jealous of the definition in your calf muscles. You like to show them off walking on your tippy toes. While squinting and smiling.

You also love to randomly start spinning out of control, laughing and shrieking maniacally like the baby despot ruler of a small island nation. It's your pent up energy from being Vicky Nguyen's daughter that you have to exorcise daily. Or maybe it's a sign of something deeper.

Your forking and spooning skills are improving. What we need to get you now is a pair chopsticks attached at the top like the ones your cousin has. And he's not even Asian!

You're in the Golden Age of kid-dom now. Loving you is hypnotic. It's a fragile time. It's like the moment Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar decide, "Why the hell not? Let's have one more!" Only they don't say "hell." And then the designers have to change the name of the show and all the graphics to reflect the new number of children. Right now, it's "19 Kids and Counting." By the time you read this, their house will have its own population sign.

But yes, you are so delicious I can see how we could easily be persuaded into making a baby sister or brother for you. Not any time soon though. Because Mommy has two friends who are pregnant now and one is barfing up her guts everyday and that reminds me of what happened when you started mitosing and meiosing and the Chum Bucket I had in my car so I could just puke and drive to work, no stops!

Even though we don't see movies until they're in the DVD box at Safeway, and we don't eat out past 7pm anymore, overall we've come out ahead in this ride Emmsters.

Thank you for being you and making it so easy to love life.

Mama and Dada