Sometimes I have to remind myself: this is what an eight-month-old baby (or a four-week-old baby, or year-and-a-half-old baby, or whatever it is) looks like. Someone will mention in conversation a child of a particular age, and I realize I have virtually no memory or conception of what that age is (or, in the case of my own funny girl, was) like. So I go back and check the photographic record. Ah yes! I say to myself, eight months was lovely. Nor am I surprised.