Claire has been scooting her little tush around our house for the last 4 weeks or so. it's more of an army crawl than a scoot, really. I've attempted to catch her on video several times. Unfortunately, Grace (read "Diva") usually sees this occasion as an opportunity. She stands next to me, looking through the viewfinder, and puts her finger in front of the camera (entirely obscuring Claire, of course). "Look Mo-om! HA! Ha-ha-ha-hahahaha!! It's mmyyy FIRNGEN!" This is how Grace pronounces "finger." She might have added, "Look mom, there's my firngen which is on my narm!" She adds consonants here and there. Like seasoning. Spicing up her speech a little. We tell her to stop.
Anyway. Back to the matter at hand. Which is...
Oh yes, Claire.
I waited with bated breath for Grace to crawl, sit, and take her first steps.
(This really does come back to Claire. Eventually.)
I didn't eagerly anticipate these things out of a joyful wish to see her grow up (sadly enough). I'm pretty sure I was looking for something to say to those other mothers. To participate in those conversations that go like this:
Mommy 1: Tommy is in the 96th percentile for height. He's soooo big!
Mommy 2: Oh, that's great. Did you know that Sarah is already getting teeth at three months?
Mommy 3: Well, our little Duncan is walking SIX months early!! Can you believe it?! He's into everything. He's so adorable.
But I am cured. I don't want Claire to grow at all. She can lie cozily in my arms forever. No rolling. No teeth. No complex carbohydrates. NOO CRAWLING!
It may be my imagination, but I fear she is crawling before Grace did. Grace couldn't grow up fast enough for me, and now I can't get Claire to slow down. The injustice is unbearable. Cruel, cruel world.