A rough and tough, dirty and stinky daddy helping his tiny little baby girl learn to walk. All while she’s wearing a little strawberry gingham dress that was her mama’s hand-me-down. That totally does me in.
These pictures are from her actual, real first birthday, August 11th. Three years ago, but whatever.
Oh, look at all of this. That little sippy cup and those lips and that wispy blonde hair. All buckled in that seat, looking at one of her favorite books. She’s one of the book-lovers, that girl. Thank God. I hope it sticks with her forever.
(How many times did I sing “The Farmer in the Dell” to her during bath time?! I mention this because the book is turned to one of the pages in that story...that I read 673 times a day.)
When I got home yesterday, she was sitting in the couch with her grandma, and they were reading princess stories while eating a snack. When Grandma left, I sat down with her, and we read for another 40 minutes straight. The only way I could get her to close the book and get off the couch to get supper ready was if I promised that I’d read more to her during supper.
If Daddy is at the station or off working somewhere during supper and it’s just her and me, we either practice a letter of the alphabet or just read after I eat my supper. ‘Cause Lord knows she’s in no hurry to eat. She’ll eat anything and everything, but she likes to linger over it.
It’s the French in her.
Then, to get her away from the supper table, I had to promise her another story while she soaked in the tub.
She asked Penelope to fan her with a fig leaf while she lounged, but Penelope pooh-poohed that and stalked off…can’t say I blame her.
I remember when she wanted to sit in that highchair constantly. For everything. She loved that highchair! She wanted to sit in it and read. She wanted to sit in it and watch me cook. She wanted to sit in it and look out the window. She wanted to sit in it and play. She wanted to sit in it and draw or color. She wanted to sit in it and have her toenails painted.
And then, one day, she discovered that she could climb up onto one of our dining room table chairs – they’re more like tall stools – and it was all over. She was grown and would forevermore be in a real chair, thanks very much.
Now her stuffed horse, Gus-Gus, sits in that highchair. I guess he’s keeping it warm for Baby Brother.