You are. Exactly.

Month seven was when you truly became mobile, going from DNC to trans-room, as your daddy describes it.  We're learning new door-closing habits almost as quickly as you're learning new escape routes.
You stand much of the time, balancing at the edge of the bed, cruising along the front of the couch, leaning over the side of the tub.  You love to take steps, one foot in front of the other while your fingers tightly grip ours.  And you like to hang out at the back door, just like your sister and brother did.
With two new stalactites dripping slowly from the top, you have four teeth total.  You bite bananas like a big kid, chew Cheerios, and even drink from a regular cup.
You clapped independently for the first time this weekend, appropriately even, as you watched cousin William come down the water slide.  And you clapped through the grocery store this morning, up aisle seven and down aisle eight, attracting shoppers right and left. 

I would not be surprised if at least one person who sees these pictures of you in a box asks that we pack you up and ship you to them.  You're irresistibly cute.

You are eight months old now, and you are perfect.  If there were a page in your baby book that asked us to describe you, we’d simply write: “Exactly who we hoped for.”  You are, Tollie.  Exactly.

Mama