Like many new parents, during our pregnancy and for the first two years of our child's life we have often quoted Raising Arizona. From "show the tattoo" to "I think I got the best one" to "he's a little outlaw, he is" the movie has provided us commentary when we were too tired to be witty on our own. And sometimes I get a photo that makes me think of the film, and I must share.
In other news, one of my oldest non-relative friends just had a baby girl. Her sister's daughter was born a few months ago, and to have these two women, whom I've known all my life, have babies my daughter's age is really profound. Their brother has twin boys, who are even closer to V's age, and this, too, gives me goosebumps. I don't know why: it means a lot to me that my sister and I had children in the same month, but that seemed natural, as we've always done things at a similar pace. But Joel, Jennifer and Emily, our big city friends, becoming parents along with us? Suddenly I'm ten years old again, standing neck-deep in South Twin Lake, talking with the girls about why it's just as bad to say "damn" as "Goddamn." Our children, if they come to know and love each other (and I so hope they do) will be the third generation of our families to be friends, despite the fact that most of the time we have lived over 200 miles apart. It's all very...cosmic, I guess. Serendipitous and cosmic, and I am ever so excited to meet Zoe and August, and hang out more with Noah and Oliver, and provide V with her own big-city friends.
In baby-turns-toddler news, V's recent vocabulary expansions:
A fabulous mix. What else does one need to know, really, but tuba, pizza, and digeradoo?
And more than anything, the child loves to play the drums.