Sunday, September 27, 2009
At the Turkish Festival in the Nethermeade this afternoon, two women with mouths full of golden teeth swooped over to Anna and took her for a whirl around the muddy grass as the band played. At least that's how I imagine it, I wasn't there. All morning it rained but by late afternoon the skies cleared. When I met Anna and her Daddy we shared a spicy lamb sandwich and saw the world champion arm wrestler. If you lasted 5 seconds arm wrestling with him you got a free tee shirt. Not many people were getting tee shirts. One tiny woman with a thick accent told me that she got a tee shirt just for trying. We walked around and the band played and the singer warbled and the men at the booth selling sofas looked bored and damp. We headed for the playground. Another good Sunday in Brooklyn.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
So, it was time to leave the playground this afternoon, because the diaper needed changing and I hadn't brought any, because the girl was rubbing-her-eyes tired and weaving around the playground trying to eat gum wrappers and pigeon feathers. So I picked the girl up and headed for the stroller. Upon seeing the stroller, the girl locked her legs around my waist, gripped my arm and shot me a look. Ignoring the look, I detached her and aimed her for the stroller. At which point she arched her back and howled like I have never seen her howl. She didn't see me giggling I'm sure, since her eyes were squeezed shut and she was concentrating so hard on bending backwards and stiffening up and yelling. I picked her up again as the row of nannies checking their blackberries as they pushed babies in the swings looked up to see what I was going to do. I looked at her. She'd stopped arching and screeching and was sitting comfortably on my hip surveying the playground. She grinned. I tried again with the stroller, thinking if I got her in there quick and started pushing she might not even notice. She noticed. She arched and screeched and hollered and turned red. The nannies grinned and kept on staring, their charges left un-swung. I noticed that when she yells that loud, you can see all of her eight teeth at once, which is hilariously adorable. So we played a little more at the playground, in spite of the diaper. She whacked the slide a few times, crawled under the climber after an acorn, was hugged around the head by a toddler. When we left, the three of us (baby, stroller, mama) were together, yet not in the usual configuration. Baby on hip, happy. Stroller empty and pushed one-handed, probably happy enough. Mama, bemused and slightly lopsided, wondering about all that is to come. . .
Sunday, September 20, 2009
All of a sudden I realize I haven't kept track of so many firsts. I thought I would never forget which day the first step was, or the first clap, or the first wave, but all of a sudden here she is ten months old, taking steps, clapping away, dancing enthusiastically to Brazilian funk, waving her entire arm when people approach and when they recede. The only time she sits still is to pull all of her books off of her shelf, several times a day, and to page through them saying "bbbeeee beeeebebeeebbee!" and "dah!" and roaring when there's something furry in the picture. Ten months old! Eight teeth! Grubby knees! Ten months old, a good day for a ride with Daddy in her chariot.