two months

The first thing she outgrew was a really sweet sleeper with a floral print and inexplicable breast pocket. It was a gift from her tías and cousins in Orange County, and I remember when I opened it that I couldn’t believe people came so small.

I meant for it to be what she wore home from the hospital. I packed it.  But when it was time to leave, both of us were too anxious of her uncertain neck and tiny fingers to try to pull it over her head, to ease her arms through the impossible holes. (She came home in the hospital’s onesie – despite a nurse’s raised eyebrows – and some navy blue sweatpants.)

We got over that.

And then one morning she couldn’t stretch out her legs when she was snapped up inside it. She is too long. Already. It is set aside.

Replaced with other beautiful things from a beautiful wardrobe. Full of dresses and rompers and sweaters that she doesn’t fit into yet, that she won’t fit into anymore.


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