SEPTEMBER, I LIKE YOU ANYWAYS

So I have this instagaram, and over the past few months, I've been thinking that I should just go ahead and change my instagram handle to something like 'cocktails and babies', or something else straightforward like that to reflect what's really going on there. Because what's going on there is bourbon cocktails and Sloane. I think I'm okay with that. I've had a lot of fun with bourbon cocktails and Sloane, well, that's going to be a thing for a while.  In true form, last weekend, I had some plums in the fridge and I threw them in a pot with water and sugar to make a plum simple syrup, which then went into a cocktail with ice tea, lemonade, bourbon and a sprig of thyme for garnish.  When I ran out of the plum syrup, I did up the ole' ice tea and lemonade combo with the bourbon and that kept me going through a game of bonanza, wherein I came in last place. 

And here we are....plopped into the month of September, with barely a recollection of how we got there and trying to rub the summer sleep out of our eyes and get our bearings for fall.  I have nothing against fall, I can get nostalgic and romantic with the rest of them, but fall means that many more months closer to winter.  But now that we are here after a glorious summer, I'll properly mourn and bravely take on the fall. September is the kind stewardess who is going to get me there, and I appreciate her.

This past weekend, we saw friends and their babies and it is getting more fun for all of us because Sloane is that much more aware of people, kids, babies, parents, and their names.  Sloane would do this thing where she would reach out and stroke the baby's hand and then leave her hand there. "Baby faye is sleeping" she would whisper to me, her eyes wide and round.  And then later, "Baby faye is crying!," with the same intense expression on her face. She agreed with my suggestion to sing to the baby by going into several rounds of "Wheels on the Bus".

It's all kind of this mystical and magical thing, isn't it? To be an adult, grown and worn by the years, with all this supposed knowledge and wisdom, in the presence of small children, exploring and discovering the world, capable of producing golden peals of laughter and fits of frustration, teaching you all kinds of things about joy and life. It feels like magic.  (*Last two photos by Jayne)

We were pooped after the weekend, but Sunday still saw us through church, football, cooking for the week and an evening with good friends.  These boys were watching a really great version of Prokoviev's 'Peter and the Wolf' set to claymation, and Sloane wanted to watch but she was also scared. "It's okay," Os reassured her, "he catches the wolf!" And when Sloane finally made it to the couch, he casually slipped his arm around her.  Masterful! I gasped to his parents and to Ken.




Which brings us to today.

I had a weird afternoon today. It was rainy and grey to start. But most of the strangeness had to do with a doctor's appointment, where none of the fears were realized, but I found myself in sort of a haze as I walked out.  I picked Sloane up early and spent the rest of the afternoon with her.

"Did you see Miss Kathy today?" I asked her on the way home.
"Yes. Kathy read a book."
"Did you see Miss Melinda?"
"Yes. Melinda read a book, too!"

That "too" at the end. How did she learn that? I wondered.

When we got home, she brought over a shark that she had made at day care (two styrofoam cups painted blue, with eyes and teeth glued to the front and a tail in the back) and told me that George (stuffed monkey) wasn't scare of it, but that Bunny (stuffed bunny) was.  "She's scared," she said, holding her to her chest and swaying back and forth.  "She's crying."  Sloane gentled patted the bunny's back and composed a look of concern on her face.

We had an early dinner - quinoa pasta with butternut squash tomato sauce for her, grilled chicken and snap peas for me - and then I cut up sharp cheddar and raspberries for dessert.  Sloane asked to have her imaginary dog, Maggie, (Ken's sister's dog) come sit up at the table with us. "She fell down!" Sloane exclaimed, in between a raspberry and bite of cheese. 

I tried to get some work done after the meal, but soon gave up to focus on playing with her. She was busy, lining up all our shoes, running to bring the forgotten (imaginary phone) to (imaginary) dad, and reading books to her stuffed animals. 

At one point, she picked up mini maracas that my cousin had gotten her from Peru and pretended they were a microphone, speaking gibberish into them, singing all the songs she knew and ordering me to clap.  "Your turn!" she then said, as she thrust the maracas into my hands.

I feel so lucky (is that the right word?) that I get to be a participant in her world. Usually it's me trying to teach her about this big world, but some days, I'm more than happy to be learning about hers. 

Okay September, let's do this. Sloane, me, and our imaginary dog welcome you with open arms.