Twinkly

Lou Boo is waking up. She's coming out of her shell and announcing to the world that she is officially here and ready to play. She's at the semi-cuddly, koala bear stage where all she wants to do is get a good pudger hold on my chin while two clear blue eyes absorb everything about the universe as it exists over my shoulder. And then squeal. And grin and flail and squeal some more. But oh those gorgeous little eyes, they smile. They smile and twinkle and tell me that they have a secret, a hilarious secret that she's never going to quite give up. They sparkle with excitement when she is standing, marching, climbing on my stomach. Because that is a simply fabulous thing to do! And when she realizes those light and magical sounds that ring through our house came from her little own self, those eyes glitter for all the world. But most of all they gleam when she is eating. In ecstasy, she pauses to let her strawberry lips lift those chubby cheeks into a cheshire grin. A very charming, sorta milky little smile. And her eyes joyfully whisper that she has discovered the secret to life: love and be loved, enjoy and be enjoyed. The feeding resumes but the eyes still shine. And I am quite content. Miss Baby....

Golden

Today we played in the leaves. An absolutely glorious sea of golden leaves that three majestic trees dumped there just for us. Those trees live in this little nook on the apartment complex property that Anne Shirley would have named something utterly whimsical because it is a hidden spacial treasure, walled in by fences on three sides and, on the fourth, both guarded and gated by a wall of trees that provide access through a small arching window in the brush. It has been our sanctuary this summer, will give us virgin snow to play in this winter, and I anticipate a pink fairyland this coming spring. But today it gave us an ocean of fallen leaves to crunch.
And crunch them we did: chuuh, chuuh, chuh. We practically waded through them! Curly Sue gathered a hat full, with delicate brown veins so perfect they might have been printed on weathered cardstock. Little Lou full asleep on my shoulder soaking in the honey mellow autumn light. Then I watched my bearded hubby splash through the leaves toward home with a toddler on his shoulders, waving orange maple flags. And once again, I was happy.

Flowers and stars

I still have a shirt that was a hand-me-down from my cousin way back in the fourth grade. It's a cream and blue henley with a very dainty little flower/star pattern that in my mind will never be out of style. I still wear it now and again, and I wore it today. And after today I think I'll wear it a little more often because every time I do it will remind me of what happened this afternoon as I put Curly Sue down for a nap.
We had just finished our book and were talking about the girl and the cat and the party in our story when suddenly her little eyes stared so importantly up into mine and she said: "Flowers and stars."
Huh? There are no flower or stars in that book. But again she said: "Flowers and stars. Yots of them....see, mommy? one star two stars, tree stars......blue flower, blue flower, blue flower---pink flower just for me!"
Her little mind had soaked in the tiny detail of my shirt. And she found it worth wondering at, talking about, and to tell the truth, improving (because the sad fact is, there are no pink flowers on this shirt....as of yet). It reminded of me of how the world became brand new when we had her. Colors, sounds, textures, concepts, the most mundane and basic details became refreshing, exciting and fascinating because she finds them so. And also, I suppose, because in truth they really are. It's the small things that make the big things, the sand that makes the beach. In my heart I always knew it but I needed a child to remind me. So we together we celebrated flowers and stars and blue and pink. Then I tucked her in and kissed her cheek. She was falling asleep, and I had fallen in love with her all over again.