If Isabel could talk I think she would look at Abigail and roll her little baby eyes and say: "If you just sat there and looked cute someone would eventually come along and carry you around so you wouldn't have to do anything. Ever. Now sit down! You're ruining it for the rest of us, you over achiever!"
Isabel seems content to be a baby forever. She rolls over like a champ but does not seem interested in crawling, or sitting up, or generally making any attempt to move into the older baby phase of childhood. She held out for the better part of a month when it came to baby food, seeming to insist - as much as an infant can - that such an addition to her diet was both unnecessary and unwelcome. She has grudgingly begun eating sweet potatoes, but the glares I get at dinner make it clear she's swallowing against her will.
While I might seem like I'm complaining, I don't mean too. I love it! Abigail spent the vast majority of her infant months frustrated: that she couldn't sit up, that she couldn't crawl and then walk, that Cheerios seemed to get in her eyes and not her mouth. It was a year of irritation for her, or so her little sour looks seemed to say. Our second daughter is relaxed and at ease with her abilities, she seems to have no greater frustration in life than trying to manage to fit 4 fingers into her mouth rather than the usual 3.
It makes for a wonderful infancy, full of giggles and only the occasional glare - usually aimed at me as I try to encourage her grow up faster than she wants to. I should enjoy these moments, because if Abigail has taught me nothing else it's that kids will grow up faster than seems possible.