It looks like you're.... "leaning." (for my sister...who will enjoy this oh, too much.)
I witnessed the utmost example of hope the other day. The true belief that something would occur if one willed it so. Unfortunately, the party in question was met with disappointment - but only for now.
I find our sweet pup, Olive staring down our darling daughter in her floor swing. She's physically leaning at a 45 degree angle. What could she so intently be trying to communicate with our infant? What had Maddie done that had rendered Olive frozen to the spot and unable to move?
Little Maddie continued to wiggle away in her wing. She kicked like crazy and wiggled a bunch and even cooed a few times. Were Maddie and Olive communicating already? What deep world secret was Olive trying to impart to Maddie? What childhood dream was Maddie already sharing with Olive? What troublesome plan were they concocting?
Nothing quite so nefarious - Olive wanted to play and apparently, she wanted to play with Maddie. Now. Olive had quite graciously placed her ball in between Maddie's feet in the swing. And Maddie was trying to kick it, but not having the best of luck.
Give her a few more months Olive - I guarantee she'll be ready to play by then and you'll be quite overwhelmed, I'm sure. Perhaps then you'll be "leaning" another way.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
My lovely little daughter is a cuddler. Which is a marvelous blessing and just so much fun. The other day, my darling husband helped out by letting me sleep a little bit extra in the morning and caring for our baby girl. He carried her around using the Baby Bjorn (amazing invention). Able to go about his morning routine of walking the puppy, watering the plants and some basic hygiene, he felt quite accomplished.
Shortly after he'd settled in for the morning, I woke up. I joined him for breakfast and then he wanted to shower. I took over baby duty and was snuggling my little one in our bedroom. Suddenly, black flakes appeared on her forehead. I brushed them away. Then, there were more still. I checked my shirt and shoulder to see what I could possible be inflicting my child with. Nothing, no flakes anywhere but her forehead...and her head. Her little head was covered in these black speckles throughout her lovely locks. What could they be? *Gasp* had she and the dog gotten fleas?! Surely not. Are they bugs? What horrible malady has inflicted my child?!
(As you may have guessed by now, I'm a first time mom.) I rushed my stricken child, who was giggling at Mommy's silly faces at this time, into the bathroom desperate to consult my husband. He is bewildered by my explanation of bugs and flakes. I share that they're all over her hair and they're tough to get off. Suddenly, my husband chuckles. *Double gasp!* What could be humorous about this situation? What horrible realization has come to him that has caused him to go mad with worry?
"That was me," he shares.
"What?" I ask, still in desperate concern.
"No, that was me...I shaved this morning."
Yes, my husband had shaved, over our daughter while she was in the Bjorn and had rained down tiny little black hairs that appeared as flakes or itty bitty bugs. My panic abated, disaster averted. She's fine and now she really needed a bath.
Columbo or Matlock? Who needs them really?