Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Fuzzy and Fat

As I write this, I have hit the elusive Napping Trifecta: Dean, Frankie and Molly are all sleeping. We spent the morning in Grand Haven with my parents, Molly, Matt and Sylvie. Frankie was all fired up to be on an outing, especially one that involved a large piece of raspberry swirl at Great Harvest Bread Company. She took her first trolley ride, made even more thrilling by the fact that my mom convinced her she was actually riding Thomas the Tank Engine.
Unlike during our cross-country visit to Philadelphia a few months ago (peppered by shouts of "No, Frankie! BYE-BYE!" and occasional slapping), Sylvie and Frankie have seemed quite delighted with each other's company. Frankie is still a little hands-on in her approach to Sylvie, with a little too much tickling, face grabbing and hand-holding for Sylvie's (mildly autistic like her mother) taste. Sylvie is still sufficiently innocent enough that she is highly taken advantage of by Frankie. My mom overheard her explaining to Sylvie: "I will play with Thomas first for a while and then I will let you play with it. That's called sharing." Sylvie just nods in agreement.
It is still difficult for me to wrap my mind around the fact that we have an EASY BABY. We are so used to having endured a HIGH NEEDS BABY (this is just a politically correct way of saying a pain-in-the-keister-like-you-have-never-known baby). We don't find ourselves with steadily climbing blood pressure and sweat stains blossoming in our armpits as naptime approaches. This morning she just snuggled up in the sling and eventually fell asleep. Even when she is awake, there is no screaming or thrashing, no desperate swinging and shushing. She remains fat and jolly with a low threshold for things she finds humorous. At her most angry and agitated, she merely begins what we refer to as "baby cursing." She doesn't cry, she just gargles her spit and vocalizes in what would appear, in print form, as ampersands, asterisks and exclamation points.
I am eager to see how Molly's laidback personality transitions into toddlerhood. Frankie, even as a small baby, seemed full of tightly coiled energy, always alert and nosy, standing stiffly on my lap. Molly slumps in peaceful gummy happiness against my shoulder, letting me bury my nose in her neck folds. I fantasize that she will be a highly compliant toddler with sunny blond hair, chubby cheeks and a willingness to chirp "OK, Mommy" to me every time I ask her to come brush her teeth. It would be refreshing change from "Eight more minutes, Mommy. EIGHT MORE MINUTES!!!"

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