ERES HERMOSA. The earth draws close to another revolution. Our little human is blossoming a version of her father except for the complexion, obviously. (Hush! He’ll get onion-skinned on matters of skin color.) Here comes our little one tumbling around the bed in louder jeer of sharper and more varied syllables. More ATP’s are burned that sweating gets her skin damp and headful of hair stuck on the scalp. Her once spacious crib became narrow for her playing frenzy. The sidewise stepping circling her crib completely bores her now. She chooses to walk the real walk, at first of course with somebody’s hands. When she be let loose on the floor, the quadruped seems long wanting to play catch-me-if-you-can. Her sight is keen on Mama’s jaw at work for a chew. Little Catring knows the demand of slices or pieces of something to nibble on. The scrawny figure scoots her way around with toys all over the place she knocks off or ...