Monday, 24 February 2014
And just like that she was ten months old. She has been out longer than she was in now. Long enough to learn to stand, unaided even for a second or two. To grow four teeth in two quick weeks - two for my birthday and two for Darcy's. To learn to crawl with one leg crooked up beneath her. Long enough to develop an allergy to grass (which I think she was actually born with, her feet turning red and rashy the first time they touched the back lawn when she was a few days old) - making crawling around the garden after her brothers a pastime fraught with danger. Long enough to learn how to wave and clap, and throw back her head when she laughs, crinkling up her eyes in imitation of her wrinkly parents.
My Dad forwarded a photo of Thea to his business associates far and wide with a brief caption: "She has her mum's crows' feet." "How rude!" I thought, while scanning the image of my baby girl for signs of any premature wrinkling. He was oblivious until a South African colleague pointed out that she had always called those strawberry blotches babies get on the napes of their necks and between their eyes stork beak marks. Storks, not crows! Thea still has her birthmark, but is showing no sign of crows' feet just yet. I, on the other hand...