The Sweet Life (and Bad Knees)

Rub a dub dub

Dear Chuck,

I have been noticeably absent in writing to you, and I apologize. You should know that you have been eating up every possible second of life in the almost-month I haven't written. Bathtime continues to be one of your absolute favorite sensory experiences, and jumping on the bed with Daddy is an extremely close second.

You are also Baby Mobile Extraordinare, and nothing in the house is safe from your wandering-ness. There is nothing you won't attempt to do. You, my pixie-haired fireball of baby chatter, are fearlessly unstoppable. In fact, just the other night you decided to climb through one of our dining room chairs. Perhaps you aspire to be a future gymnast. Or perhaps you were looking for Narnia. Whatever reason your little brain cooked up, you boldly approached your task with your usual "I will do this!" attitude. The optimism faded, however, when you realized you were stuck.

You were not hurt in your attempt to hurdle the chair. It would be more accurate to say that you were rather angry. Mommy apologizes profusely for not rescuing you immediately, but you'll understand if you have children of your own that sometimes, just sometimes, your progeny will do something that simply requires you to document it. It should also be noted that this setback did not deter you from attempting exactly the same feat several times during the following days. In fact, the chairs now seem to attract you like a magnet, and I'm sure you're at home right now giving Daddy gray hair.

Speaking of Daddy, you have begun addressing him as "Da-deh". He is over the moon about this (as am I), so I have decided to ignore evidence that you are simply working out a new sound without knowing its proper meaning. It is the cutest thing, to hear you look at him and say, "Da-deh" with your little baby cheeks puffing out and tiny rivers of drool escaping through your 6 teeth (yes, you have 6!). The wonders of your developing brain never cease to amaze us, Charlotte.

We're still waiting on our new living room furniture. I hope you inherit someone else's patience, Chuck, because you're not getting any from either of your parents. Though I think waiting 4-8 weeks for something you have spent a rather large amount of money on is pushing the limits of anyone's patience anyway.

The other amazing thing you got to do at the end of February was go to a wedding! Uncle Jesse and your new Aunt Kate got married! Daddy, Uncle Jim, and Aunt Amy were all in the wedding, and we certainly couldn't be left out, so we put on our finest duds, and away to Dayton we went! You were the belle of the ball (next to the bride, of course!), and everyone just loved you to bits. You were far to busy to pose for too many pictures, but I managed a couple:

Mommy also had a funny fall, and ended up injuring her previously-not-injured knee. Not to worry - it's just a little boo-boo, and just a minor surgery, so aside from Mommy being gimpy for a few days and having to do some special exercises, nothing will be different. It won't be like when Mommy had her gall bladder taken out and she was gone for a whole week.

The best part of the year is coming up, Charlotte. SPRING! And Spring leads to Summer, which I think you will also find quite enjoyable. Summer is swimming and playing outside, and it's the smell of sunscreen and barbeque and staying out late to catch fireflies after the sun goes down. It means napping with the windows open, and running around in your diapee just because you can. Spring is different. Spring is flowers and rain showers and rainbows and long walks and most importantly, Spring is Garden Planning time. Well, in our house anyway. This year, we are doing zucchini (for yummy bread), and a pot with tomatoes, and we will have sunflowers, and a Morning Glory vine, and pretty Moss Rose, and pink tea roses, and hanging Nasturtiums, and sunny Marigolds. I cannot wait. Even the inside plants got new pots, and Mommy has a brand new baby Philodendren plant for your room. We might even find a new houseplant to bring home, who knows? And if Daddy lets Mommy get the baker's rack she's been looking at, who knows what could happen?

It's the sweet life, Charlotte. It doesn't get better than this.

I love you.

Love,

Mommy