Turkeys

Among the many, many things we have to be thankful for this year are the huge things--the birth of our daughter, and her escape from any consequences of her early illness--and some small ones.  

Three really tiny ones, to be precise: Allison Clare came forth with not-one-but-three new teeth on Thanksgiving morning.  We'd been waiting for one of the teeth for almost six weeks: every morning, we'd peer into her mouth at the little squiggle of tooth apparent just beneath the gum, but every night, it was still there, stubbornly unmoved. During that whole time, Allison Clare had been drooling to beat a pack of St. Bernards, and I'd been getting up with her multiple times some nights to administer what felt like quarts of Baby Tylenol.  The night before Thanksgiving, she woke up four times between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m., crying and holding her mouth--but then in the morning, there it was, miraculous and triumphant.  Like a little present.  And accompanied by two other stealth wingmen teeth.

My parents were in town, which meant they also got to admire the teeth and help out with the cooking.  My mom even did a lot of the cooking on Wednesday while Sam and I escaped for a rare afternoon out alone together (Olive Garden, Best Buy, and Barnes & Noble . . . conventional suburban life has become an oasis of pleasure).  Thursday we passed the baby around and roasted a huge turkey, and having my parents here made it a holiday and a celebration, instead of just a lot of food.

Allison Clare seemed to know it was a special day: she ate with us at the dining room table and seemed excited that everyone was there, since usually we feed her in her high chair in the kitchen.  She gobbled down the mashed and sweet potatoes I gave her, then had her evening bowl of cereal and fruit, and then demanded even more by making her little hungry sound ("Amamama" . . .  Sam claims she is trying to say "Daddy."). So Sam gave her a whole extra container of baby food with some more cereal mixed in, with the end result that she ended up eating twice her customary amount. It was hilarious--it was as if she sensed what Thanksgiving involves.  To cap it off, she slept in late on Friday, like she was sleeping off the huge meal.  What a girl.

Today was a nice, bright day, and we walked a couple of blocks down to the park so that Allison Clare could visit the baby swing (in her cap and booties from Aunt Anjuli--thanks!):

And then we came home and watched Daddy work:

(Yes, I am a slacker.  If you look closely, you might even see the reflection of the television, which I was watching from the couch while my husband ran the leafblower.  But hey, I had dinner on the table an hour later, so it all comes around . . .)