Windmill

You know how there's always (well, not always...but you get my broad generalization, right?) a windmill at a miniature golf course...well, we have our very own windmill sitting in Cecelia's high chair every now and then.  While trying to insert food in her mouth, she's taken to raising her arms as if raising a guillotine only to bring them down with a sufficient slap/chop...haha, I wasn't even trying to make reference to the device you can only see on TV, but there I did.  This is her newest trick in her repertoire.  Lately her appetite for solids has been touch and go and I blame impending teeth.  This arm flailing just adds a new obstacle for Jeff and I to overcome and overcome we shall.  I will get the ball in the hole, kid, and you will like it.