We went to Tampa last weekend for Samantha’s baby shower (of which, I realized, I have no pictures on my camera). Samantha got everything from a wipe warmer to a tinkle cup. Apparently, they make little cones to place over your male baby’s weeing wee-wee during diaper changes.
On Saturday, my parents had a very well-attended house concert for singer-songwriter Jack Mosley. Clara really enjoys the shows, and we all take turns keeping an eye on her.
First, Dad, who has vowed not to cut his hair until the Bucs win the Superbowl or the Rays win the World Series, keeps the curious Clara within arm’s reach. He is the only man I know whose hair gets thicker with age.
Despite playing hostess to the legions of people bringing their potluck dish and looking for a place for their lawn chair, Mom always gets in some Clara cuddles during the show.
Clara’s learning quickly. First, you find a necklace with a seashell and dress yourself in bright colors for the show. Then, you find a stump and start dancing.
Meanwhile, I’m just soaking up as much baby love as I can get these days. We are done having children—we are!—but I am really enjoying how loved and relaxed a sweet baby against my chest makes me feel.
And, Aaron, well, he’s just Daddy of the Year every single day.
You can’t go to a party and not eat a cupcake. Show us how it’s done, Clara.
Then, we arrive back to Tallahassee to find two exciting packages from Grandma Nancy. In one, we find this must-have: the pink leotard. Also, from Aunt Brooke and Clara’s Quincy cousins comes an assortment of headbands and barrettes, and I find that Clara will consider having her hair done so long as she can wear a tutu and take a picture.