A Good Burger and a Good Baby

The sweet new 'older baby' layout, courtesy of Craigslist

Yesterday was one of those 75-degree, blustery warm spring days that you don't see until May in Canada but are gifted with in North Carolina in early February. I couldn't stand to be at my desk one second longer, so called The Ta to go to lunch. We risked eating at a Café near her house, since we both had early afternoon appointments, and despite our last visit there ending in pain and misery, had great meals.

Did you ever, as a kid, get fries from a beach snack bar? The kind of place that wasn't big enough for a tall person to fully stand in, that for certain didn't have proper refrigeration or was up to any health codes. The kind of place that served fries, piping hot and perfectly salty-greasy-crunchy on the outside, and moist-mealy steaming on the inside? And maybe, you got a burger too, and it was flame-broiled and perhaps a little overdone but doused in ketchup and relish so it didn't matter? The bun was soft and fresh, and there was American cheese, all gooey-melty, and a handful of perfectly crisped pieces of real bacon? That was my lunch. It was perfect for a day like today. Yes, it is sitting in my stomach like a lead brick, and I'm still belching onion, but oh, was it good. And, uh, the bacon was deep-fried. PERFECTION ACHIEVED!

And have I mentioned lately that I have a really good baby? The kind of baby who has slept through the night for quite some time now, who sleeps from 8p-7a, and lays quietly in her crib cooing while waiting for me to get her? She's a good baby. I have fed her Thai, watermelon, part of a Greek-grilled lamb chop, and peanut butter this week. And orange juice. So basically, she has officially had everything on my carefully researched, written up, and posted-on-the-refrigerator 'Do Not Serve Before 1 Year Old' list. Except for the obvious 'duh' things, like hot dogs and popcorn and poisonous blowfish. The only problem is that she has decided she doesn't want an afternoon bottle or sippy cup of formula any more, and doesn't really want a snack, so she's RAVENOUSLY HUNGRY OMG FEED THE BABY BEFORE SHE DROPS BELOW 25 POUNDS at exactly 5:30. Which means mama needs to stop working at 5 and cook a super-quick dinner, if she doesn't want to enjoy the dulcet tones of a screaming child the whole time. I'm looking forward to the long weekend (in addition to my family being here) since I will actually be able to prepare meals earlier and Ms. Fussybottom will be entertained by other people. That's almost enough of a reason to get married.

So yes, despite the new whine I have a good baby. Did I already post about where she picked up her new favorite noise? She got a terrific irritated grunt from The Nanny's baby, which cracks me up, but the champion is a high-pitched, 'Aaaaaaaaa' sound, which the little drama queen works up to with a long indrawn breath. She got it from The Ta's dog. I thought it was a passing fancy, but I guess she figured that if it works for him it will work for her. It's both pitiful and hilarious. And makes me want to jam something into my ears.

The good baby had a busy day yesterday – she went to storytime at the library, and the local consignment shop, and the park, and then sat outside looking at books and playing with toys while Nanny blew bubbles. Once again – so lucky to have Nanny. It's awesome that it's nice weather, because my office overlooks the back yard and I can spy on them playing and see Nanny being absolutely adorable with Jelly. Which today made me a teensy bit sad, to see Jelly look at her that way and giggle. But you know what? WAY better than the alternative.

Have I already said I have a good baby? I can't remember any of the specifics I was going to post about why, exactly, she is such a good baby. Maybe it's because, despite being a despicably cheerful early-morning person, she still likes to wake up slowly with a good long snuggle in a warm bed with her mama. Or because she already has a sense of humor, and will laugh at the randomly stupid things I do to entertain her. Or because she loves, LOVES music, and will wiggle and bop to just about anything with a tune and a beat. And she doesn't seem to mind, sometimes, when mama reads only one book instead of five, or gets her out of the tub early because it's been a really long day. She doesn't cry when you wipe her face after a meal, or when it's bedtime, or when mama changes her clothes 11 times, or takes yet another picture. She's just a good Jelly.