(Pola by Ann McGarry. Of course.)
We are closer to Truly's seventh month, than her sixth, but you know– six months is sort of a deal in babyland. She's scooting a little bit. She's drooling almost constantly. Her imaginary teeth are causing a great deal of consternation for both of us. Compared to her brothers she is a near constant smiler, unless you touch her. (Don't touch her.)
Manny likes to sing to her. I could die.
The rest of us are hobbling along, trying to negotiate the chasm of summer. I know that adults tend to romanticize that blissful feeling of nothing to do, but it is my experience that there is really nothing harder for the under 10 set (and their caregivers). We should all be so lucky, right? I know. School starts here the day after labour day, and this year August will be going, too. We are deep into backpack negotiations and end of summer trip planning. We also made the decision to list the bakfiets for sale. We still family bike, but it's looking a bit different these days, with all three boys riding two-wheelers. By the time Truly is happy on the bike, she'll be ready for a seat of her own.
But for now: I'm working my way through a short list of canning, some small sewing, and being the arbiter in the near constant small people conflicts. Truly squirms above it all. She is the only neutral party these days.