Dear Laney,
It has rained every day for the last 40 days at our house. We haven't been able to play outside much, and your dad hasn't been able to mow the grass yet. To get to the swingset would require a machete; while that holds a certain El Salvadorian charm, I wasn't up for it yesterday.
So when the rain paused for a few hours and Brooke and Cedar called and suggested we all go for a walk on a nearby hiking trail, I was all for it. After all, I had run out of ways to entertain you, short of walking down the street to visit the old bearded guy who's working on his ark.
After 2 days of feeling mopey, you seemed to be on an upswing.
...but after about five minutes on the trail, you were done, and just wanted to be carried.
Do I own about $500 in various baby-carting equipment? Yes. Did I have any of it with me yesterday? No.
So, like a short, blonde, irritated sherpa, I carried you and all our picnic supplies back to the car. Cedar and her mom, Margaret Bourke-White The Other Brooke had a much better time.
We came home and I put you down for a nap, and then Cedar and I totally went joyriding in your car. I'm sure by the time you're old enough to read this, you will have forgiven us. Here's hoping.
Today, you still don't feel good, so you're home from school. We played a "game" this morning where you pushed me into the closet, waved good-bye, and shut the door on me. Alone in the dark, with my head resting on the T-shirt shelf, I thought, "This is nice."
Sigh. I'll be blending smoothies, back-scratching and watching Season 4 of The Backyardigans if anyone needs me.
Love,
Mom
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