I’m not really sure why I ever wrote it down in my calendar, but I did, and now I transfer it over every year. It’s something I just can’t let go. I was lying on the couch – if you can really call it a couch – in the pied-a-terre. I was watching T.V. after work (Man, what was THAT like?!), and something caught my eye.
It was my own five-month-belly.
I called for Brady to come and look, and after a little gentle prodding, the baby started moving again. Back then, we had no idea if we were dealing with a boy or a girl.
Here she is in her second year:
sporting her new Aggie cap from a Sunday afternoon shopping trip,
riding Carlotta with Daddy,
being thoroughly impressed with the big rig that moved Uncle Willy and Aunt Lesley’s house all the way to Old Washington,
and using her foot as a phone.
I wonder who she was talking to in the back seat of the dodge there….
I remember that trip very vividly. The three of us were going to pick up a horse somewhere on the other side of Plantersville, but there was some big bike race going on at the time, so we got held up in standstill traffic for around two hours.
She did great, though. We talked and laughed and talked into our feet, apparently, and we made up a song about the barn cat, Charlie, that had a mustache, just like Daddy’s.
Katie has continued this streak of being a good traveler. This afternoon, she’s riding with Brady as he hauls feed, prepares for a big hay delivery, and shuttles two giant loads of cows from the sale barn to the pens. She’ll have her pink camo backpack with her, filled with fruit snacks, raisins, water bottles, sunglasses, and things to “do.”
She’ll come home happy and dirty and full of stories and happy. And that will make her mama happy.