Sadie is becoming quite the fun little sidekick on our near-daily adventures. Once we get out of the house, that is. Getting us both fed, cleaned, dressed, and packed for whatever two-hour long outing I’m planning is proving to be a bit time-consuming, especially given that we have to build in time for one of us to nap.
Once we’re actually on our way, though, she does pretty well. Provided the car is moving 90% of the time, Sadie has reached a tentative peace with her car seat. Should there be a long stoplight or a similar traffic hazard, the dialogue between us goes something like this:
Me: “Okay, so it’s just a red light. You’re doing great, and we should have you moving along again in just a moment!”
Sadie: (Disapproving grunt)
“Sadie! You’re doing so great, being so patient! Mommy is so proud of you!”
*Mommy has also developed a knack for referring to herself in the third person.
Sadie: (Silence, whilst reaching for feet.)
“See, it’s just a little stoplight! Almost our turn…”
(Louder squeal of disapproval, continued examination of feet.)
“Boy, this light is taking a while, isn’t it?”
(Squealing louder still, whilst removing socks)
*Sadie: 48, 383. Mommy/Socks: 0.
“Wow, this is definitely taking forever. It’s okay, little one!”
(Full-on crying, bare feet kicking furiously)
“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, YOU GUYS, WHAT IS THE HOLD-UP!”
Thankfully, those moments of car misery are decreasing dramatically. I’m learning that not unlike myself, my daughter is a people-watcher. She genuinely seems to enjoy being out and about, as there is always something new to see. She’s perfectly content to ride around in her stroller, darting her eyes all around so as not to miss anything. She’s also a huge flirt (another trait she inherited from me, I’m afraid. My college roommates used to say I’d flirt with anyone—man, woman, or beast. So I’m chatty, what’re you gonna do?) Because she is a baby, and a pretty damn cute one, people are constantly peeking, smiling, and cooing at her while I stand by, cringing, hoping they don’t sneeze in her vicinity. She returns their attention with this coy smile that makes me picture her as a teenager, at which point I’ll need to have her microchipped.
Still, I love watching her interact with the world and love it. She’s a happy little kiddo most of the time, though she can throw down with the best of criers when she wants to. When I’m driving us around, I sneak frequent glances at her through the mirror above her seat, and her innocence and curiosity melt me, every time. I’m so grateful to be showing her around this big world, while it’s all still new and safe and beautiful to her. I hope to keep showing her around when it stops being all of those things, too. But right now, she’s just so eager to discover EVERYTHING, and it reminds me how much more I hope to discover myself.
Unlike her tiny, useless socks, I hope she never loses that.