Caroline Eats Mud

Today Caroline ate mud. On purpose. And I think she kind of liked it, which is a little too bad because the other day she put me in a position where I had to choose between catching her and preventing her from taking a nasty spill or not catching her and not preventing her from taking a nasty spill. Choosing to catch her necessitated putting my other baby, my Nikon, at risk. I chose, obviously, to catch Caroline. My Nikon, thankfully, survived the incident. My most useful, versatile lens, my 18-200 mm, on the other hand, did not.

Darn it, though, even with my non-autofocus, 50 mm she still looks good. Even with the mud all over her face.

What Caroline is like

This movie will sort of give you and idea of what eighteen-month-old, high-energy Caroline is like.

We think she's a stitch.

Ash Wednesday

Have a blessed, Ash Wednesday, everyone. And, for those keeping track, this is the third (or fourth?) consecutive Ash Wednesday we've had snow. Blergh.

Last year's post. Applicable this year too.

Sick Day

Madeleine just now, on the upswing of the fever, etc., etc. that has been making its way through the inhabitants of our home.

Hank, exhibiting no physical symptoms, yet verbally hopping aboard the sick train, hoping he won't be questioned too strenuously by Dr. Mom.

Eighteen Months

Poor Caroline. As the page turns on another month of her life, she marks the anniversary with a terrible fever and cold. Yesterday and Monday were spent lying prostrate on the sofa, propped up with pillows, tucked in with heavy blankets and, ultimately, the digital thermometer reaching a high of 103.7.

Sick or not, though, there is wisdom in those tired eyes. At the advanced age of one and one-half years, she is right there, midway between babyhood and toddlerhood. She talks (Mommy!, Dad!, high five!, toast!, milk!, bottle!, please!, diaper!, night-night!, bye-bye!, NO!, yeah, et cetera, et cetera), but grunts and cries of displeasure are common too. She self feeds, but she holds her spoon upside down. She runs boldly, but her short legs fail her, and she falls. She is aware of what life has to offer, but is frustrated with her inability to do it all.

Today there it is, a brief smile. A tentative consumption of a slice to toast. No digital read-outs of body temperature have been sought, but I have become an expert at discerning the rise and fall of body temperature simply through visual cues and touch, and her fever is decreasing. She is well enough for a brief bath. And now, she naps once again, recharging for the near day when she will be able to embrace her eighteen-month-oldishness without the handicap of a nagging fever. Until then, I'll hold her close, give her a kiss and enjoy this brief respite from the cusp of toddlerhood when Caroline is, once again, all baby.