Put It In a Crib

Holy cow. My little E is talking in paragraphs now. Yesterday, I had a work meeting that had to be scheduled later in the afternoon, as the client is in California. I kept E at day care later. So, by the time I got her, it was almost dinner time. I decided to drive over to Mark’s office, meet up with him, and have dinner. It’s about a 25-minute ride.

E talked the entire way. “Mama, I sit in rocking chair and rock baby doll and I love baby doll and she so cute, and Sarah got new baby doll, and toy broke Skyler broke toy and he push me and I say ‘No pushing,’ and Sarah say ‘No pushing me.’”

Then we passed the farm, the same old one from previous posts (here). That cow must now have a daughter (or granddaughter?) of her own. There was a sweet, little calf snuggling with her mama in the pasture.

“Oh, E!” I said, “Look at the baby cow! It’s a little calf!”

“Oh Mama!!” she answered, “I love that little baby cow. I want to pick it up and see it. It be so soft, it be so ‘booootiful.’ I want to squeeze it and put it in a baby crib.”

I started laughing, “You want to put it in a baby crib?”

“Yeah, and rock him!”

“I want to do that, too, E. That sounds like fun!”

Apparently, everything “cute, soft and boootiful” should be in a baby crib. I couldn’t agree more.