pajama sunday

The McFam had a lovely little weekend at home. We spent some time with a very strong Tommy and his parents, attacked a local Children’s Museum with gusto, giggled while Caroline tried to pick up Goldfish crackers with chopsticks at dinner, and our daughter enjoyed Pajama Sunday to the fullest – along with her first bath since Thursday night. Yup. She was dirty – but her HAIR was awesome! Who has time for baths when you are out visiting babies and playing with chopsticks?

Caroline had such a fun weekend, despite the fact that she woke up this morning with that awful croupy seal cough. She called for me and I took her right into the bathroom for a steam. She looked up at me, pointed to her nose, “my nose. full.” So we are holding onto our hats tonight – hoping she sleeps well and that we can pump enough fluids into her to push this cold right on out of town. We’d like to stay healthy too if we can – flying cross country in a few days and all.

We have been enjoying listening to her explain things to us. She often says “my” when grammar calls for “I.” “My help.” “My tired.” “My go outside.” “My happy.”

I loved hearing her share her day at the museum this morning – she “danced!” and “my slide.” I also loved hearing her remind me about seeing that snake, dinosaur and butterfly moving last week with Nana. She still remembers every detail Mom. I would be remiss in not mentioning how she saw a photo of kids at the beach in a catalog and exclaimed, “Beach, Papa!”

Tonight she pulled out an old dance recital costume I had tucked in with her toys and asked me to help her step into it. As soon as I pulled it onto her shoulders (over the pajamas she never took off from last night), she asked “my dance?” So I did what every good mother would do and despite the fact that it was creeping ever closer to bedtime; I turned on the iPod and we danced together. This little moment – my little girl dancing in a costume I had danced in - was so special to me and though it only lasted one short song, Daddy caught it on film.

Caroline is growing up before our very eyes, repeating every thing we say, greeting us at the door and helping us put the groceries away, asking for a high five, telling us when she is sleepy. I pulled out a blanket and danced with her to Billy’s Lullabye, singing the words softly in her ear and suddenly she was my baby again – laying her head on my shoulder, eyes closed, calm and serene – reminding me that despite how quick things seem to be going, she still needs me.


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