The Scrawl Vol. 1, No. 44

This belonged to last week’s edition, but I ran out of high speed data. We had a warm, sunny Sunday sandwiched between a couple of chilly days, so Maria and I hung out at the playground near church and ate dirt. Well, she ate dirt. I didn’t. And we went down the slide, too.

Behold, the dirt. (She was too busy to bother stopping and posing for Mama).

Picnics at the park? Yes, please. Potato salad and ham croissants? Oh, my, yes!

On Monday, we went to the botanical gardens at Como Park. I wished I could’ve stayed in the sunken gardens for hours, they were so beautiful, and the hyacinths smelled amazing.

See how pretty? Balm, pure balm.

I wanted to get a picture of us, but Maria wasn’t very smiley, so we tried this.

It worked!

And then she decided she could smile AND stick out her tongue!

We stopped at the library, and she was introduced to Duplo. Her little friend was fairly patient with her, even when she did perplexing things like putting pieces on upside down or tidying everything up before he was ready.

I introduced her to markers so I could get some stuff done, and her favorite part was trying to put the lids back on.

After this, we did dishes together (which means I had the faucet drizzling and she rinsed our small French press out continuously while I washed dishes), so all the color came off her hands without any fuss.

Because I didn’t have enough work to do in preparation for our trip (ha), I made sourdough cinnamon rolls.

Butterscotch because I forgot to get more powdered sugar. And they’re all gone already.

Maria was a trooper for the trip. I was a little nervous that we’d need to make a ton of potty stops, but we didn’t, and she did just fine. She’s starting to use the sign for toilet a little more now, and it’s very helpful to have more than just nonverbal cues to rely on.

Proof that we don’t get pictures of the two of us often.

This is the perfect chance to make creepy noises in the wife’s ear, no?

Who, us? We’re perfectly normal.


Hanging out with Freeman in the Wade Center at Wheaton.

Maria enjoyed the big, noisy chairs while keeping a wary eye on Crazy Uncle Freeman.
After spending all day cooped up in the car, Maria was not interested in the stellar performance of Handel’s Messiah that the Concert Choir and Chamber Orchestra put on, but thought it would be better to try to add her own voice to the music by running up and down the halls outside and yelling. We were politely invited to use the nurseries downstairs, which Maria found quite satisfactory. We returned after the intermission, and she slept through the second half.

At brunch the next morning, Maria declared herself to be quite capable of sitting next to me instead of in a highchair. Well, standing, because there are so many more charming poses that way.

See what I mean?

We made it to Hillsdale on Saturday, and have had a lovely relaxing visit so far. It’s amazing how many memories we have tied to this place and our relationship and Maria’s early life. Of course she doesn’t remember the paths we walked daily while I was pregnant with her, or the bed she was born on, or the chapel she shared morning prayer in for the first several months post birth, or the spot on the floor where she first rolled over, or all the people who are astounded at her size and mobility, but we do, and those memories are very sweet. She is quite happy simply to make new memories with Daddy and Mama and Grandpa and Grandma and the piano.


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