Friday Bits
What a social day Lucia and I had yesterday. First we met a friend for lunch in Union Square; and, later, had a spur-of-the-moment playground meet-up with two friends and their baby, in town from Berlin. Andrew, too, has been having lunches and get-togethers with old friends and new. We’ve always been happy being just us, together, but it is wonderful to be back in a place where our world consists of other people, too. And Lucia, unwary of strangers, loves meeting new people, especially other babies. She seems to be becoming the sort of child who is going to run happily off to play with whatever children are around—making her as unlike me as a child as she could possibly be. But, of course, we shall see.
Lucia continues to detest peaches. I’ve been giving her small pieces of fruit to eat—blueberries, plums, bananas—and got some delicious peaches to try. These peaches were perfectly ripe, perfectly soft, perfect for little toothless gums. Lucia gamely picked up a piece of peach and put it into her mouth, but then she did her mango face—mouth open in horror, the unchewed peach lying limply on her tongue, small gagging convulsions coming from her throat. This time, I did not insist on a second taste. Peaches just don’t seem to be her thing. (But she loves the other fruits.)
Lucia is becoming familiar with things she is not supposed to touch. She knows she’s not supposed to crawl into the bathroom, and we keep the door shut; but if I’m in there, brushing my teeth or putting on lipstick, she quickly crawls over and hangs around the threshold, staring at me before beginning to inch her way in. Yesterday, when Andrew was brushing his teeth, she reached around the doorway toward the garbage can and just let her hand hover there, looking at Andrew, waiting for a reaction. She is so cute, and so much impending trouble.
Walking around or riding the subway with Lucia is a funny experience; she is so interested in other people, staring and sometimes waving or smiling, that I’m often forced to smile at the person myself in a “I know she’s staring at you for an uncomfortably long time as you try to listen to your iPod in peace, but isn’t she cute?” kind of way. I’ve made more eye contact with New Yorkers these past few weeks than I ever did before having a baby. Most people—most, not all—smile and wave back at Lucia, even surly-looking teenage boys (teenage girls always do). I try not to give the “not all” people dirty looks. Who doesn’t smile back at a baby?!
Lucia continues to detest peaches. I’ve been giving her small pieces of fruit to eat—blueberries, plums, bananas—and got some delicious peaches to try. These peaches were perfectly ripe, perfectly soft, perfect for little toothless gums. Lucia gamely picked up a piece of peach and put it into her mouth, but then she did her mango face—mouth open in horror, the unchewed peach lying limply on her tongue, small gagging convulsions coming from her throat. This time, I did not insist on a second taste. Peaches just don’t seem to be her thing. (But she loves the other fruits.)
Lucia is becoming familiar with things she is not supposed to touch. She knows she’s not supposed to crawl into the bathroom, and we keep the door shut; but if I’m in there, brushing my teeth or putting on lipstick, she quickly crawls over and hangs around the threshold, staring at me before beginning to inch her way in. Yesterday, when Andrew was brushing his teeth, she reached around the doorway toward the garbage can and just let her hand hover there, looking at Andrew, waiting for a reaction. She is so cute, and so much impending trouble.
Walking around or riding the subway with Lucia is a funny experience; she is so interested in other people, staring and sometimes waving or smiling, that I’m often forced to smile at the person myself in a “I know she’s staring at you for an uncomfortably long time as you try to listen to your iPod in peace, but isn’t she cute?” kind of way. I’ve made more eye contact with New Yorkers these past few weeks than I ever did before having a baby. Most people—most, not all—smile and wave back at Lucia, even surly-looking teenage boys (teenage girls always do). I try not to give the “not all” people dirty looks. Who doesn’t smile back at a baby?!
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