it was a good afternoon

I know you won’t remember this time, when so much was new and so much was figuring things out.

That’s one of the reasons I want to write it down. Because maybe someday you’ll want to know what we were like when we were more easily rattled and so often in awe. Maybe you will enjoy these younger versions of your parents. Maybe you will find them endearing.

There’s a spot in my own baby book where my mom wrote down some thoughts for me, her first child. And every time I read it, I think, “That’s the same, pretty mom handwriting I’ve always, always known, but when she wrote this she was 24. 24 is so young. She must have been freaked out sometimes.”

And that’s strange because in my childhood memories, they are never freaked out. They are just my parents and they always know what to do.

For the record, you sometimes freak me out a little.

Anyway, it’s probably just as well you don’t remember all the times we thought “Diaper?” “Milk?” when you were screaming, “Burp!” Or how we fumbled with the carseat straps or any of the other unpleasant things  and moments of confusion you have had to endure on our account.

But I do wonder what you remember day to day, if anything. Because it seems like you do remember some things – Like when we walk into your room and you start looking at the ceiling for your mobile. Or how you sometimes wake up smiling and it seems like, maybe, you know where you are and that makes you happy.

If you were to remember anything about this time, I would want you to remember an afternoon like Thursday. David took the day off. We had lunch in the living room — peanut butter and jelly sandwiches — over a bunch of newspapers and tried to help you practice your rolling/crawling belly stance. You thought that was lousy. We listened to some music. We walked around outside.

We all fell asleep on the bed and had a late afternoon nap.

And you woke up smiling.

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