It's cold. Slush runs out of the tap and coffee gets a milk-skin before you take a sip. My mother told me her eyes nearly froze shut while outside (in Vermont, but play along) today.
Not the best time for a bath, you say. Better to wait a while until this cold snap breaks, you say. This is probably right. But here's the thing: I've been telling myself and anyone who will listen (Zora) every morning at her 8:00 a.m. changing of the guard that today is bath day FOR SEVEN DAYS. Every morning she smiles, burps and a recent meal rolls down her cheek, and every morning, as I try and clean her face, I say, "We're going to take a bath today," in some embarrassingly high sing-song voice I've found these last eight weeks. Today HAD to be the day-- even I can't procrastinate that long on hygiene.
Eight weeks! Two months officially today! We're very, very happy.
After a bath, styling:
After styling, more styling:
Happy two months!
