Well-preserved

Joel and I got iPhones just in time.  This is going to be the most well-documented baby on the planet, and when her siblings later ask why there aren't as many photos of them total as there are of day-old El, we'll say Because mama and daddy didn't get new phones three days before you were born.  But here, have a hologram of yourself (I am apparently having my next baby in 2114).

And I couldn't be more pleased, because the thing is growing already.  YOU FEED IT AND IT GROWS.  Science!  We had a doctor's appointment yesterday and she's already gained back an ounce from her hospital weight.  An ounce.  What a precocious fatty.

I mean, maybe she'll be petite forever, but she is more likely to develop elegant neck rolls for me to wipe the milk out of (she drinks like a frat boy, but she also holds her drink like a frat boy, which is to say, in her lap), and as much as I'm looking forward to filling out the wrinkles in her elephant legs (fat babies are the cutest babies), I know I'm going to want to remember her skinny-chicken-wing stage.

All of which is to say, many diaper-clad photos.