twenty-seven years and one million words
Well, "First Grandaughter" may have had a wobbly start with her eyes (I was briefly concerned that she could see at all through one eye that was bloody from birth) but she's come a long way already. She tracks things with her eyes, clearly focuses on things as they move closer, and is attracted to motion.
In fact, tonight she seemed to be studying my face as I held her.
It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.
—Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.