Well, I finally hung up my garden fork and hand trowel for the season. Last night it rained the fluffiest goose-down I've ever seen. One foot. You kick it and it's like kicking air. I shoveled some snow off the garden, pulled back the old sleeping bag and harvested the last of our carrots and beets. The fact that I am saying this in
December is completely nutty. We live in zone 3, people. Zone
THREE. I'm okay with it.
:: Right now I'm listening to Frances England's "Family Tree": think light, happy, banjo and these lyrics:
Hey ho, just how will it be/ when we add another branch to our family tree....
How will it be? This is how:
Hazel Iris, you complete us. You were the missing soul at our dinner table. You were the link we awaited in
ring around the rosie. We always knew something was missing until you came along. Now, we are whole. You are the rose atop our three-tiered cake.
Tonight you stood up unaided--like, for
three full seconds--first in front of dad, then Juniper, then me. This morning, somehow, the gate to the stairway had been left open and before we knew it, you had disappeared. I had a *feeling* and I ran to the stairway to find you, smiling gloriously, at the top.
Damn, you made my heart leap but you were so dang proud of yourself. You are a climber. Even before you could crawl, you were trying to climb up my ironing board.
For months now, you wave goodnight to Daddy and Juniper. At the mere mention of "goodni..." you'll stick your fist out there, opening and closing your fingers with the sweetest grin and your tongue sticking out just so. And tonight! You gave your first bonafide kiss. The real McCoy. And guess who was the lucky recipient? For the rest of your lives Juniper can say she was your first kiss.
These days, you point to everything asking,
Eh? Your favorite objects are lights, fans and snow.
^Juniper had just flipped on the light to wake you up. This is you, all sleepy and squinty-eyed saying, Eh?^
From the day you were born you've had this goofy head/ear/hair fetish. It started with a disdain for hats. Then, as soon as you were able, you'd pull at your ears and grab your hair while nursing. Then, once you could sit up, you'd hold things up to your ears, or stretch things behind your head, or over your head. And still today, you love to just randomly slap and grab your own head. It makes us laugh. Always. We love you so.
^Seriously. You do this to yourself all the time.^
You are a snuggler.
You love to play ball.
You can hang with the big kids.
You love Legos and other 3-year-old toys. You want to be a part of everything.
Your level of communication astounds me. You sign "more" and, sometimes, "drink", but hyperventilating when I take a block of cheese out means you want some. Rapid-fire kicking in your high chair means you like what we're eating. Slouching in your chair means your less than impressed. Kicking combined with back arching means you're done and you want out. Or, you have to pee.
Generally, you prefer meat and fish over anything else. You especially like salmon and moose. And pomegranates. You'll take flavor and spice over mild and bland. You still only have two teeth.
Besides an awkward, screechy, baby bird-like
ma! ma!, you have two words.
Ba = bath and
up = cup. Two things you really love: taking a bath with big sis and drinking from a sippy cup, just like big sis.
Two weeks ago you turned
one. Oh, Hazel Iris, I love you so. Happy birthday sweet Hazel-basil.
P.S. Daddy says, "I want to
eat you up."
