When Avery cried from the warming table, just moments after being born, it wasn’t from shock or fear, it was simply that she wanted to do. To go. To feel wind in her hair and accomplishment in her belly. Every day since has been a sprint to mastery.



Getting her everything dirty working with Dad.

Last night in a run-of-the-mill, pre-bedtime romp with Bri, my sweet, strong, do-it-myself Ave fractured her tibia.

How will I ever keep her still enough to heal?***

*This isn’t hypothetical people, lay some wisdom on me.
**Grandma may be coming to help!