We are up early, you and I, as you didn't fall asleep after breakfast this morning, so we are now on the floor of the den, you in your baby pouf batting at crocheted dinosaurs, I drinking coffee and writing quickly at the coffee table. The light is thin, and the puppy is still asleep. Before too long we will take him around the block on streets emptied of people. Everyone is either home, or three avenues over readying to watch the parade.
The winds are high today, so they may not have giant balloons in the parade. I went once, in college, and I mainly remember crowds and very cold feet. But today I am happy, thinking about years to come, when we might go the night before to watch them blow the balloons up, and then you can ride on your dad's shoulders to get a better view as they pass by.
I don't know how to express, even to myself, how thankful I feel today.
Thankful for close friends, both those coming to my house to cook this afternoon and those far away, in other states, on other coasts. Thankful for my health, and for my parents being alive. Thankful for rewarding work and a happy marriage.
But thankful most of all for you.
I think if I try to express how thankful I feel for you, I will fail so abysmally that it will be worse than if I hadn't tried. Maybe I will try again later.
Right now, you are babbling in your pouf and I have just given you a wubbanub, and in a moment I will put you in a bouncy chair so you can watch me make cranberry sauce while I narrate what I'm doing. I never thought a baby would be watching me make cranberry sauce.
My own amazing baby.
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