Sometimes you can see the baby dissolve into the toddler. (And I want to tell her, “Baby, wait.”)
I have mentioned before the way she waves.
So perfectly guileless and such a disarmingly sweet invitation to love her back.
“Hello, strawberry yogurt.” You are a delicious snack. I love you.
“Hello, Dad.” You are rocking me to sleep. I love you.
“Hello, new song on the radio.” You make me feel like dancing. I love you.
She finds new peaks of curiosity and delight, working herself into a world that, just for now, is all hers. Just until she really works things out and there is no more waving at the snacks that don’t wave back. And no more spontaneous games that make sense only to her.
For now she likes to carry things all around the house. In particular, a 6 oz. can of tomato paste, the Safeway brand.
She finds it with the pantry foods. Reshelves it. Decides, then again, it’s better off someplace else.
It is something she takes seriously. She has her reasons.