Dear Reese,
I take you to the Chocolate Chicken this afternoon and have you sample Blue Moon ice cream. You do want to try it at first, but after a good bit of smearing blue on your cheek, you taste it and seem to like it. At least, you lean in for more.
I get us a single scoop in a dish to share, and we eat it on a picnic table at Harbor View Park. You don’t eat much of it, in the end, but I’m sure the taste of sugar was more than enough. I used to love Blue Moon ice cream as a kid.
I walk you down to the harbor playgorund but you’re only interested in walking away from it. Walking still requires holding both my hands and my hunched back and you scream at me when I try to turn us back towards the slide. I hear a parent asking a passing kid if they want to play for a bit but then you scream and they keep walking. It’s a little funny.
But you’re okay, you just want to be held or distracted today. Those damn teeth. I pick you up and walk you to the end of the pier and back, pointing out the sailboats and the motorboats.
You still cry when I set you back in the stroller, but it feels like summer. So good to be home with you.
Oh, and bathtime seemed back to normal tonight! You belly-flop lounged in the tub, happy as a clam.
Love,
Mama