White clouds covering our small parcel of earth today. Outside, one of the neighbors is digging into the earth with a shovel but is far enough away from us that we cannot tell why, we just watch his form heaving itself up and over the blade, again and again.
I hope you will get to travel a lot in your lifetime. Daddy and I both think it's important, but it's also expensive and we are not exactly swimming in golden statues and Ming vases. On our honeymoon, your father and I went to Peru. We watched the sun rise at Macchu Picchu along with 500 other people who managed to catch a coach bus up the mountain before 6:30am. When Ricki and Peter were there, 20 years ago, there were only five or six other people poking through the mist at the same time. I wonder what the place will resemble once you are grown.
You have developed a double chin and everyday your eyes cross less and less. You are awake for up to an hour at a time now, oftentimes without fussing, and expressions cross the plain of your face like storm systems. You turn red and your mouth curdles back to scream but before you can do so your eyes open and your mouth forms a tiny "o." Then you smile and tiny bubbles form at the corners of your lips. Now that you are latching on so well (one whole week!), Daddy doesn't need to get up with us at night. I turn on the green bedside lamp and settle two pillows on my lap and pull you to my breast and then you begin to suck and I lean my head back and we move in and out of wakefulness together until you have finished.
I worry sometimes that your father does not give his full attention to you when you are awake. He often has you on his chest and a computer in his lap or a book in his hand. But maybe this worries me because it reminds me of my own father and his ability to be mentally absent while physically present...and the tricks I developed to try to pull him back to me. Your only trick right now is crying--and you do so with passion and intensity, little Thiz.
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