A couple weeks ago, the Hubbles and I dropped Pixie off with her Auntie and cousins and we went off to a party. In the middle of the day! All dressed up! And there was beer.
Two friends of ours got married up in the mountains. Beautiful ceremony, wonderful reception, cake, and friends. And cake. We left Pixie behind because it would have interfered with her naptime, which makes a very unhappy Pixie. Sitting quietly and patiently also makes a very unhappy Pixie. And a very unhappy Pixie is a very noisy Pixie. Instead, she had a fabulous day playing with her cousins, took a nap in her cousin’s bed (and swapped halfway through to nap in her other cousin’s bed, I hear), and we brought her back M&Ms. At least I think I did. I might have eaten them.
Chappy came along because A: he is breastfeeding, and B: he is highly portable and extremely laid back. There were a handful of children present and he was absolutely, by far, the quietest. Barely made a peep all day. He nursed, he napped, he looked around, and he napped. A lot.
Of course, I love my children equally, and I really don’t mind too much that one of them is kind of… temperamental. She’s still my baby, and she ALWAYS WILL BE.* On the other hand, I’m not going to drag her around to events when I know she won’t enjoy them. Though, I am looking forward to the time, maybe in another year or two, when we can take her along to things without as many concerns.
Also: without diapers.
And a diaper bag.
And a stroller.
And a playpen.
*Dear Pixie of the future: I know that once it’s on the internet, it’s pretty much there forever. So I’m sure you can read this. YOU ARE MY BABY. STILL. I don’t care if you’re thirty now. DEAL WITH IT.
