Three Things
Duck Fuzz. Our baby is a baldy. He is very advanced in lots of ways, but not so much at growing hair. His grandpa says the later you get hair, the longer you keep it. Good news for cueball.
But recently his shiny dome has sprouted a soft layer of duck fuzz. It is blonde, almost invisible, and makes me want to kiss the top of his head 100 times a day.
Dirty Paws. Saturday morning we slept in a little, and while we were drowsing, little man reached out and stroked my hand really gently. His softy guy fingers were better than velvet. His little paws are like a perfectly ripe piece of fruit. When he was an infant, they were balled into fists. Now he has excellent control and can pick up small things between thumb and forefinger, but he hasn’t toughened up his mitts with lots of crawling.
The weather was so nice, when we finally got up we played in the garden. I tried to keep the baby more or less on the picnic blanket, but by the end of the day he had scrabbled in the grass, eaten half-composted leaves and gotten dirt under his nails. His perfect baby fingertips. I wish I could bottle that softness now, before he grows up any more.
Doux-Doux. He likes a fuzzy blanket when he is falling asleep. He pulls it up under his arm, gives it a half-twist, tucks it next to his ear with the end flopped over. Looks just like Linus from Peanuts.
Our neighbor speaks French with her boys, and her oldest has a naptime security blanket, called doux-doux. Soft-soft. He holds it the same way, must be something all babies know how to do.
