I stretched out on my sweet baby girl's floor, as we listened to music, and then my girl crawled over to me, and she planted her two palms on either side of my face and lowered her two tiny rose-colored lips onto mine. And she lingered there. And I was whole. And that, my friends, is what they are talking about when they write Happily Ever After. ...
I just want to advise you,
that if you decide to bring your 9 month old child into your closet with you, so that you can keep an eye on her while you are getting dressed, she will pull every shoe off the shelf, kiss herself in the full length mirror, and wear your underwear as a hat. Or, at least, that's what I've heard.
On a snowy Saturday
you don't have to change from your pajamas. You can stuff your belly with brownies and brie cheese and it feels good because you have nowhere else to be. You can linger over your mug of cocoa, from your perch on the nursery floor, and laugh with your full heart and full belly, at the giggling, squealing little pink person before you. You kiss ...
eight.
Yesterday, my daughter turned eight months old, during a weekend of many celebrations. There were sparkling candles, big dinners, songs and cheers. However, in trying to think of how to write about my baby's 8 months, I had a hard time finding the words. Should I compose a poem? Month one was fun, but glad it's done! Month two brought smiles in the seashore ...
“Delicious,
it's like kissing a rainbow!" -The Husband, after giving the baby a little smooch. Maybe he is getting better with his colors, after all.
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