Friday night I sat on a top-notch baby.
We sang the ABCs and read thousands of books and played ring around the rosie until her tía decided it can be injurious to all fall down that many times. Her tía's joints are not what they once were.
Saturday, we went for a big breakfast and a trip to the park.
She was way happier about it than that!
There we go.
We climbed stairs.
We played peek-a-boo.
We walked, big steps in our favorite shoes.
And, of course, we sat. (All that walking can be very tiresome.)
We showed off our very best manners. (This move, thumb of one hand to palm of the other, is how Dat Booger says "please.")
After that, it was time for a nap, so I returned to the Woodside to vacuum the dust off the vacuum and otherwise have a serious self-intervention on the subject of slovenliness. Let's just say I put away some Christmas presents. Ahem.
I scrubbed as many inches of the homestead as possible before my body saw fit to remind me of just how old I am, which is somewhere between not-getting-carded-anymore and menial-household-tasks-will-result-in-partial-paralysis.
And then I bought myself flowers.
A big bunch of 'em.