Move over, Luke Wilson; AT&T has a prime candidate for a new spokesperson, and she just happens to be my 8-month-old daughter.

Over the past week or so, L has become obsessed with the telephone. Whenever she sees it, she starts yipping and laughing and smiling profusely. When she catches Powergirl or I are talking on it, she grabs it from our hands and immediately starts cooing at it. Oh, and when we put the thing on speakerphone, fuhgeddaboutit—the baby squeals more than Bjork fronting a choir of throat singers.

She loves the damn phone about as much as she loves our cat, Coomer, whom she often greets and treats with similar fanfare and theatrics. It’s like our Panasonic cordless has become the baby’s new best friend.

To some extent, these behaviors are inexplicable. It’s not like Powergirl and I spend that much time on the phone (in fact, many of you readers can attest to the fact that since L has arrived, I’ve been terrible at returning calls). What’s more, none of our phones is particularly visible, making it hard for the baby to spot them unless she is physically in our arms.

Still, we can’t help but find the new obsession adorable. Just about every day this week, I’ve called Powergirl at work and left her voicemails with the baby squealing in the background. When my mother called this afternoon, I put her on speakerphone and the kid had a ball.

I admit it: I even called my work line today and let the baby yammer into it for a while.

Her little voice! That toothless smile! To describe these natural wonders as “guilty pleasures” would be apt. I’ll take ‘em whenever I can get ‘em, thank you very much.