stuff I should have written down
Sep. 22nd, 2004 02:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kip_wSarah. Not walking by herself yet, but footing it around the house holding my index fingers. As she takes a step, I can hear gentle little plosive sounds being whispered, so that she is going, "p-... p-... p-..."
Sarah, nearing her second birthday and learning some numbers. After dinner, I ask her what kind of popsicle she wants. "Two!" she declares.
Sarah, at the playground. She's determined to climb a metal ladder on the jungle gym, so I help her up, and urge her to use her hands and feet. As she subsequently goes up almost entirely by herself, I can hear her quietly telling herself, "Hands. Feet. Hands. Feet."
The tip of an iceberg. So many moments lost. I thought of a journal (got some stuff written down on the other computer somewhere), but where was the time? Oh, if only I'd spent more time writing things down, and less raising my darling daughter...
More recently. We go out in the morning and water the hydrangea bush my sister put in the ground during her visit, as well as a potted plant next to a neighbor's driveway. Then we walk around in the street (in our part of Virginia, suburban sidewalks are apparently taboo). Sarah goes and hops over a little hole in the pavement, insisting I hold her hand while she does so. Then Cathy comes out and Sarah goes into the car and she's off.
Bedtime ritual now includes brushing our teeth together. Sometimes she brushes for a couple of minutes, other times she's done as soon as she sucks the toothpaste out of the brush. Then she wants a little cup of water. A few nights ago, I asked if she wanted green water or purple water. Her eyes widened a little, and she specified purple. I half filled the cup from the tap and said, here you go: purple water. She smiled and changed her order to orange water, so I poured out the first cup and refilled it with orange water. So now she always asks for orange water.
Sarah, nearing her second birthday and learning some numbers. After dinner, I ask her what kind of popsicle she wants. "Two!" she declares.
Sarah, at the playground. She's determined to climb a metal ladder on the jungle gym, so I help her up, and urge her to use her hands and feet. As she subsequently goes up almost entirely by herself, I can hear her quietly telling herself, "Hands. Feet. Hands. Feet."
The tip of an iceberg. So many moments lost. I thought of a journal (got some stuff written down on the other computer somewhere), but where was the time? Oh, if only I'd spent more time writing things down, and less raising my darling daughter...
More recently. We go out in the morning and water the hydrangea bush my sister put in the ground during her visit, as well as a potted plant next to a neighbor's driveway. Then we walk around in the street (in our part of Virginia, suburban sidewalks are apparently taboo). Sarah goes and hops over a little hole in the pavement, insisting I hold her hand while she does so. Then Cathy comes out and Sarah goes into the car and she's off.
Bedtime ritual now includes brushing our teeth together. Sometimes she brushes for a couple of minutes, other times she's done as soon as she sucks the toothpaste out of the brush. Then she wants a little cup of water. A few nights ago, I asked if she wanted green water or purple water. Her eyes widened a little, and she specified purple. I half filled the cup from the tap and said, here you go: purple water. She smiled and changed her order to orange water, so I poured out the first cup and refilled it with orange water. So now she always asks for orange water.
