Babies These Days

Clara Grace’s Daddy took her on an outing to the post office early one Saturday morning. “That baby is so alert,” the attendant marveled, “How old is she?” “She’s thirteen weeks,” her Daddy informed. The post office attendant shrugged, “None of my kids were ever that alert at thirteen weeks, I guess they’re just making babies more alert these days.”

Magic Daddy and the Eternal Christmas Tree

It was an odd revelation for Clara Grace’s Mommy when the thought struck her that the baby had lived in a house with Christmas decorations for the greater part of her life. Could she even recall a world without red and green and a giant tree in the middle of the living room? So much of her development had taken place in the shadow of the artificial pine’s heavily laden bows.

Only weeks before, Clara Grace had dozed semi-comatose while her Mommy and Daddy decorated the entire house with bright and shiny Christmas regalia. She had taken only cursory notice of jingling ornaments or even the blinking Christmas tree in mid November.

However, when everything came down in early January she gazed with rapt attention as her Daddy unwound sparkling garland from the tree. Of particular curiosity to her was the mystery of how her Daddy went behind the tree on one side and then somehow reappeared again on completely the other side. This phenomenon happened over and over again as the garland wound lower on the tree and each time Clara Grace snapped her head to the place from where he’d popped out unexpectedly. What an incredibly vast amount of things there are for her new little mind to grasp. And how quickly Clara Grace is taking in her new world.

New Threads Already

It was thirteen weeks after Clara Grace’s arrival when her Mommy packed away all of her zero to three month outfits. As she refitted the seemingly monstrous three to six month apparel onto the vacated hangers, she felt the familiar stinging in her eyes and tightening in her throat that warned the job would be more emotional than expected. By the time the project should have been nearing completion, she found herself sitting dazed on the wood floor in the middle of heaps and heaps of disorganized clothing. However disheartening, the project’s necessity had become apparent when Clara Grace’s neighbor, Lillian Smith, had come to coo over the baby days earlier.

“Oh, my gracious, her looks sooo cold.” Lillian commented in her syrupy Georgian drawl. Clara Grace’s Mommy paused in order to think of a way to respond politely without admitting she’d wantonly put her baby at risk of double pneumonia.

“I guess it’s hard to know how to dress them on one of these 70 degree days in January.” She tugged in vain at the cuffs of her daughter’s pants wondering why on earth they refused to cover the bottom half of the baby’s bare legs. This was certainly an unexpected development since the very outfit had practically engulfed Clara Grace just a short time ago.

Mrs. Smith smiled sweetly, albeit disapprovingly, and shuffled back across the street hunched against the spring-like breeze in her, two undershirts, flannel, and down coat.

And so it was that the very next weekend found Clara Grace’s Mommy knee deep in outgrown bows and ruffles. A few hours and several tears later, Clara Grace’s closet was functional once more. It was harder than anticipated for Clara Grace’s Mommy to let go of the seven pound fourteen ounce newborn who remained curled up against her chest just like a little turtle several minutes even after she’d been taken out of her bassinette. However, she did have to admit there were distinct advantages to the twelve-pound growing infant who had recently learned to smile and stretch out her arms when she wanted to be picked up from the bassinette.

The Best Medicine

January seventh brought the most delightful milestone in Clara Grace’s development to date. It all started with Her Mommy holding her facing out while Leanna conversed with her in all manner of “Goos” and tongue wagging. It must have been that something struck Clara as particularly more hilarious than anything she’d heard in the last twelve weeks and five days because she all at once burst out into genuine laughter. These were not just polite giggles; Clara Grace was smiling so big that her eyes squeezed shut and guffawing so vigorously that she almost choked. As Liana put it, “Well, good grief, she’s cracking up.”

Fish on the Wall

On January sixth, Clara Grace finally took the trouble to notice the masterpieces with which her Daddy had spent months adorning the walls of her nursery. As her Daddy rocked her to sleep, she gazed with particular interest at the orange and white clown fish swimming lazily just above his shoulder.