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Last week Lucy was reunited with her cousin Olivia.

When last we left that pair Lucy was a mere eight weeks old and Olivia was six months -- she could hold her head up, sit reliably, hold her own bottle, and produce a variety of interesting shrieks and squeals. Best of all, she made sense -- when she cried, you could generally figure out what was wrong and how to fix it, whereas the brand-new Lu felt like a mystery. When she cried, you could take half a dozen guesses as to what was bugging her, and one of them could be right, or she could just be crying for no reason at all!

Flash forward to our recent Florida vacation. Lucy's much more grown up and reasonable, and Olivia's a year old, with four teeth, walking (in a very cute little swagger) and talking ("baby" and "bubble" and "ba-ba" for bottle).

The second first encounter was hilarious.

"Look, Olivia, a baby!" said Aunt April.

Olivia inspected Lucy carefully. "BAY-BEE!" she said. Then, after apparently determining that in spite of her one tooth Lucy didn't pose a threat, she leaned in close, yanked Lucy's binky out of her mouth, inserted it into her mouth, and toddled happily away.

Funny stuff.

We had a blast celebrating Olivia's first birthday party, complete with bubble machine, peel-and-eat shrimp, and a gorgeous, fondant-frosted ocean-colored cake, into which Olivia dove head-first.

I think Lucy was a little disgruntled by the pile of presents that weren't for her -- not to mention being denied even a nibble of birthday cake -- but I told her that her time would come.

Then I put her down for a nap in Olivia's grandparents' dog's bed. Because I'm just that kind of Mom.