Dear Reese,
You dip your hands in the pool. We’re testing if it’s warm. It is. This weekend, your Aunt Jenn wants to go swimming with you. I was so sad when your swim lessons were cancelled after just one session, so I guess we’ll create our own opportunities to skill build in the water.
The pool area is empty. The sky overcast. We walked here from the dock and to the dock from the swingset. An after-dinner tour of Rocky Shores. I don’t pay enough attention while you play in the woodchips, and dirt is smeared across your lips and sticking to your teeth. I hold you upside down (you love this) and see the mud on your gums. Later, I lay you down on the bathroom floor and brush your teeth with silly strawberry toothpaste — extra thoroughly.
At the end of the tour, I set you down at the bottom of the hallway staircase. You’ve already proved you're a pro at stairs at the cottage, but we haven’t tried it at home. Until yesterday. Tonight is the second time you climb to the top by yourself, no assistance needed. You’re a pro, darling.
When I open our door at the top, you crawl across the threshold into our home.
Love,
Mama