On Monday I was demonstrating Rachel’s superior intellect to one of my piano students. It was actually a bit of a gamble, because we really had never tried this before, but she carried it off with the professional cuteness of a 16 month old.
I said to Rachel “Where’s the baby?”
Rachel’s eyes dropped to my belly, then she lifted up her own shirt and patted her tummy.
I really think she is getting the idea.
This morning I was feeding Rachel. She slept in, so Jeff had already gone to work. I made oatmeal. (It seems I have actually turned into my own mother after all. Of course this was apples and cinnamon oatmeal, not cold lumpy oatmeal, so I guess there’s a difference after all.) I don’t totally trust Rachel to feed herself without making a horrible mess with something like oatmeal, so I was in charge of the spoon. I had to get her milk for her, and I didn’t want to leave the poor waif without sustenance, so I put some cheerios on her tray to feed herself in my absence. So while I was feeding her the oatmeal, she would pick up a cheerio and put it on the top of the oatmeal on the spoon. I guess it added texture that she wanted. She did it with almost every spoonful. It was pretty cute. Or maybe you had to be there.
By the way, my ultrasound is tomorrow, and if the baby is cooperative, I will find out if it is a boy or a girl, and end this speculation. I voted boy, but I’m thinking now maybe girl.