We've come a long way, or, You can't put the cat in your mouth

Despite everything, despite screeching from pain and fear when Daphne took her for a ride on her tail and starting scratching her, Katie still loves the sight of that cat. She still squeals when she sees her. Now, I think Daphne's come around; Daphne doesn't leap off like she used to when Katie starts chasing her around the back of the couch.

Just now, Daphne kept pacing coyly around the couch with Katie in hot pursuit. Daphne finally sat on Eric's lap, and Katie tackled her. At day care, they've been trying to teach the babies "gentle touches" because there's a smaller infant in the room. I've been trying to follow up at home, getting Katie to stroke the cats softly rather than what she normally does: pull on a chunk of their fur or poke at their toes. When Katie tackled Daphne a few moments ago, with the cat sitting in compliance, I took her hand, saying, "Gentle touches, Katie, gentle touches." As she stroked the cat's fur, she giggles. It makes her laugh for some reason.

It wasn't all peaceful, though: after pulling her hand away, she immediately proceeded to start feeling Daphne's fur with her mouth. Our response: "Katie, you can't put the cat in your mouth." This isn't unusual. She's put Sita's ears in her mouth before. Nonetheless, it didn't turn into a wild West show which means, we've come a long way in baby-animal relations around here.

Also, Katie's been hesitant, if not fearful of letting go of both of our hands while we "walk" her around the house. Not only did she start pushing the stool around yesterday, she's getting excited to let go of our fingers to walk using only one hand. And, by accident, she's stood for a few seconds by herself. Once we planted her down and let go. She freaked and sat down. Today, she was walking along Eric's leg that was hanging off the couch. I yelled out, "Eric!" and realized it sounded like she was getting hurt or something. Instead, she was standing on her own and didn't even know it.

It's only a matter of time, I guess. Whatever baby-proofing we have left to do better get done. I just feel like our house is a big death trap, though: stairs, books on shelves, papers hanging off tables with heavy objects sitting on top of them (like Eric's 100-pound textbooks)...

Anyone want to buy us a crash helmet and lots of padding so I can sleep at night? Ugh. If she hasn't woken up at least once, I start waking up around 5 listening for her to start moaning. She'll be off to college, I'm sure, and I'll still be listening for her around the house.