Sophie and I dropped Izzy off at preschool and then followed our usual path home this morning. I turned the van off and went around to get her out.
Her kerchief had come off, so she pushed it on top of her head and yelled until I put it back on her. Then she allowed me to get her out of the van so she could sprint full-force to the sloping edge of the walk. There she halted, threw an arm up and back towards me and squawked, "Uh, uh!!," which in Sophie vernacular means, "Please, wonderful mommy, lend your sweet baby a hand."
I reach my hand to her and she curls her tiny fingers around the edge of my palm, gently takes a step up the slope, instantly drops my hand and runs, arms pumping wildly and screaming with delight towards the porch.
I smile as I watch her go, then my glance falls upon the yard and I'm suddenly remembering the warm spring day 18 months ago when Chris had blown up the inflatable pool for me and Izzy and filled it right there, in the middle of the front yard. There I had sat, nearly 37 weeks pregnant and as content as a kitten. It was a gorgeous day. Warm and balmy. Truthfully a little too cool for swimming yet, but I wanted to enjoy a bit of "swimming" with Izzy before Sophie arrived. Little did I know that just a few days later I would be holding my tiny beautiful daughter in my arms.
Now, my not-so-tiny but still breathtaking little baby abruptly stopped in front of a step up onto the porch. "Uh, uh!," she called me.
I reached my hand down to her. Barely brushing her fingers against mine, she bounced upon the porch and took off once again.