Claire, this season

This is how she looks when she looks up at me, always full of love, unless she is giving me the stinkeye. Mostly she says I am the best Mommy in town. Recently she said "Mama, this sandwich is overcooked." Later, she affirmed I was still the best Mama in town. I was relieved.

I shamelessly use Claire to stimulate Hannah into crawling and doing upper body weight bearing through the blanket tunnel, because it appears to me that she is also enjoying herself.



Claire has an accomplished stinkeye. You'll will never be unable to tell what this child is feeling. Thinking, she might be able to hide, but strong emotions? You'll know.



She likes to be the little Mommy sometimes, helping her baby sister. Sometimes this means grabbing Hannah by her hoodie and pulling her down, but that certainly keeps Hannah from sneaking into the street while I get things out of the car.



This day of face painting in late summer was a preview of the child she would become, when she graduated to the Butterfly class in her day care. For the record, Butterflies learn to lie on the first day (teachers deny this, parents agree) stop taking naps, describe those kids who fall asleep during "quiet time" (a movie watched while wearing a blanket) with actual scorn, and are ever more adept at drama. Butterflies need a bandaid for all injuries, bleeding or not, and know everything.