On my first day of April vacation, I
got to visit with one of my favorite friends and her gorgeous new daughter, Zofia. While Zofia is not all that new (she is ten months old) she
still feels new to me. Much like a
previously-owned car. Only cuter and more interactive.
I don't know why I didn't snap a
thousand photographs of Baby Zofia yesterday, performing feats of strength
usually reserved for Olympiads or super heros that fly. Like wielding my six-foot nine
husband’s seven-pound shoe, with her pinky. Pictures say a thousand
words, like, “Ya know what they say about tall men and big feet!?”
Yes. Small children get lost in their
foot ware.
Anyway, Baby Zofia was oodles of
afternoon fun! And now that I am
about to become a Grand Mama times TWO, it was blissful to learn just how
unprepared my home is… for babies.
Our house is the least baby-proofed zone in the Cosmos. Babies
would be safer on Saturn. Or the
Sun.
Zofia emerged intact but I can't say the same
for a cluster of vine tomatoes I didn’t want anyway, three wooden Easter eggs
still rolling themselves down the stairs en route to the Mutility Room (which
thankfully Zofia never discovered), the cat’s mood, or two-thirds of a peeled apple
she could almost fit in her mouth due to what I believe is a
genetically-superior adaptation where she can unhinge her jaw like a snake.
It’s not that any of these items necessarily
posed a threat to Zofia. It was
the lightning speed at which she could acquire them. One second, she was harmlessly tapping a glass slider, appearing
to enjoy the wind moving trees outside. And the next, she was a room away
chewing the fifth page of a photo album while lifting a four pound lid off a
cast iron pot.
“How did I MISS those?” I asked myself,
mentally reviewing a half dozen baby-level hazards I had pre-removed: the cat
box, workout weights that might crush a toe or break a tooth. Anything that
might pinch, choke, cut, blister, drown, emblazon or impale. Our home was the equivalent of
Guantanamo Bay, and I had only removed the first layer.
I also learned that a ten month-old baby is
like a hamster. You know how they make their bodies flat to squeeze inside
small spaces? I swear I lost Zofia inside walls three times.
I COULD have lost her inside a storage
compartment in our new Riding Coffee Table, but it’s so large and intricate,
and Riding, that its hinged trap door is its least interesting feature. This
coffee table lives on four casters and roves throughout the living room of its
own accord. A stiff breeze and the
table is mobile. I am kicking myself that I didn’t whip out my phone to capture
video of Baby Super-Z moving a 97 pound cherry table the size of Buick from one
side of the room to the other.
Eventually the Nap Monster visited, and my
friend had to collect Baby Zofia and a few baby sundries and whisk her away so
I could stop drooling and nodding off in front of them.
It was a joyful, awe-inspiring visit, a testament
to our species, and commentary on how quickly one can fall in love. I missed Zofia the instant I lost sight
of their car motoring down the street. And I became instantly greedy to speed
gestation so I could meet my two grandbabies, due in late summer. A summer I vow to remember that my
phone can take photos and videos.
They aren’t just for writing blogs anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment