Sigh. It’s one of the last blogs I post while you’re still less than 1 year’s worth of age, Baby Rangirl. Or should I say “Baby Hulk,” with all that strength you’ve accumulated in a short few 11 months? You went from a truly dependent little kid to a truly dependent kid only at night when you need to be soothed to sleep. The other moments when we’re not trying to trick you into hitting the sack we’re struggling to get you to stay still or out of the cabinets…you’ve already managed to help break one of the safety locks with your Lance Armstrong-steroid-induced-strength. Baby Hulk indeed.

Last year around this time we were rooting for the Giants in the Super Bowl, and you still have yet to take your victory lap for that win. You managed to stay unborn so that I could enjoy the game/last moments of peace and quiet. So go ahead, hop into your Prius car and lets take a lap.

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At least it isn’t a Hummer like the douchebag winners of this year’s Super Bowl, the Ravens (click to see what I’m talking about).

You couldn’t have cared less with your first big game. There was only one thing on your mind: iPhones.

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Sigh. I should be enjoying the littleness that is you. And I do. But as I blog from the couch while you sleep on my side of the bed, I can’t help but be bittersweet during what should be a holiday in the football world. My Baby Rangirl is 1 year old in less than 5 days. Sure, that’s a year closer to you being potty trained and out of my bed…but it’s also a year less of you being so innocent and okay with football being on every Sunday. Soon you’ll wanna hog the TV to watch your modern day Tom Cruises.

…Hulk sad.

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