Yesterday, my favorite partner in crime and I took our under-ones to the Kohl’s Children Museum in Glenview, IL. Turns out, every other parent in a 50-mile radius had the same idea. The weather? Pouring. The parking lot? Full. And the line– it was a scene out of sitcom. One in, one out. A velvet rope. Insert Diddy joke here.
Once we got inside, it was pretty awesome. TAKE YOUR KID HERE. Sure, Posey was too little for the tiny grocery store, vet, or baby hospital, the mini-library or and even the tot-sized Potbelly (complete with toy sammies). But inside the cushiony confines of the infant areas, a miracle occurred. There, on maybe a 10-inch high baby ballet barre, in front of a shatter-free mirror, my 3 lb., 3 oz. helpless lump HELD HERSELF UP AND STOOD. By herself. Sure, in the :01 I looked away to grab my camera* she fell forward and smacked face against the barre, resulting in a puffy goose egg a few minutes later, but she did it. And laughed and smiled like a goon in the mirror the whole time.
And I would have never even given her the chance.
It was my friend who wound her up and let her rip while I struggled with the museum-mandated protective booties on the other side of the partition. I expect so little of her, because she’s a preemie, because she has no teeth, because she’s little, but mostly– because she’s my baby. But she’s ready to do so much more, even if I’m not.
Today, I took her to the gym and forced myself to let her be in daycare for twenty-eight minutes (the “fat burn” cycle). You’d better believe I cried the whole drive there and that I was glued to the nanny-cam channel the entire workout. It was the first time someone that is not a blood relative of ours watched her, even if I was still technically “watching.” She did great.
And so did I.
*Still got this one: