rolla

There was a time when I thought she would never roll over.

It wasn’t a finger-drumming, nail-biting, oh-my-goodness-she’s-never-going-to-roll-over-and-everybody-else-is-rolling-over freakout or anything.

It was just that the mechanics of it seemed, frankly, impossible.

I kind of thought she would hit all her other milestones, skip this one, and come back to it later. Like when she turned 5, maybe.

And then a couple of months ago, while I was in the kitchen and she was playing with David, I heard him clapping, and he called out, “She rolled over!” Belly to back.

And a couple of weeks ago, she nailed back to belly.

But since then, and in both cases, the rolls have seemed like “Whoa, what happened?” manuevers. Happy accidents. She was not rolling with intention, if you know what I mean.

But now.

It starts with the  look of a lady who knows what she’s up to.

Alice wears a look from the daycare break-open-in-case-of-emergency collection. The outfit she left the house in was returned in a plastic bag. What? It happens.

Voila

p.s. She seems to be feeling better. Bout time. And thank goodness.

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