Her physical dexterity and strength develop apace. Whereas her previous attempts at throwing involved a sort of run-hop with raised arms (to get up speed?) and then a hilariously ineffective drop of whatever item she was hoping to throw, now she's starting to develop a pretty good overhand.
As with many things, this is a moment that inspires both excitement and dread. On the one hand, she's learning to throw! On the other, now we have to teach her to only throw certain things and in certain places. (viz. balls; outside).
We must must must convince her to stop trying to throw wooden blocks at a short distance directly at daddy's head when he's lying peacefully on her floor and not expecting it. That's not even a throw, it was basically a stone cold sap to the back of the head when I wasn't looking. My baby tried to mug me. And she giggled when I shouted.
To gain her strength for the occasional assault, she's taken to weight training. She tosses her toys around with abandon, tips over her new toy basketball hoop and tries to ride it like Blue Horse (an inventive, but decidedly unapproved-by-the-manufacturer, maneuver), and on at least one occasion tried to flip the ottoman in what looked like a fair attempt at a Romanian Deadlift.
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