When you were a child, did you ever play a game in which you pretended the floor was poison? Or was water full of alligators or sharks? For the duration of the game you had to move about the room with your feet never touching the floor. This generally meant leaping from couch to chair to stool to game board to towel to whatever was there, or was conveniently placed there. On occasion, a rare occasion, it was acceptable to be carried by someone else.
Eva is playing that game. We are in Omaha this week visiting Jen’s family and getting ready to celebrate her first birthday this Sunday. Our 11 month, 3 week, 4 day old child, the one who is usually over-the-top social and engaging, must have reached her saturation point with meeting new people. And I must be the newest favorite thing, for I cannot leave the room without her whimpering for her “D.” I cannot put her down. I cannot shake her from my arm. She is stuck to me like glue, like the floor is poison and she will be eaten by piranhas.
Jen says I should be honored, as it is a sure sign that she is as crazy about me as I am about her. And I am. I love this kid, and don’t ever want to shake her from my arm. Let the floor remain poison fro a few years longer, it’s all OK with me.
That is such a sweet post! You can put it under her pillow during the teenage years to remind her that you really aren't out to ruin her life :-)
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