We stayed at your grandparents’ home in the Berkshires last night, little one, dog-sitting while your grandfather has surgery in New York City on his toe.
The good news: You slept like a champ. It took Mommy a little longer to get you to sleep, because she has hesitant let you cry yourself to sleep in a strange place, but once you started snoozing, you were great. The dogs woke you twice in the middle of the night, but each time, you went back to sleep, on your own, and without much fuss. And while battling a stuffy nose, no less.
The bad news: Mommy and I did not sleep as well. The dogs woke us up many, many times and insisted upon sleeping atop us. I don’t know how your grandparents ever manage a decent night’s sleep, because we certainly did not.
More good news: When I finally plucked you from your playpen this morning, the same one that Mommy and Auntie Emily slept in as babies, you were on your tummy, scooting around like toddler, and when you heard me enter the room, you immediately flipped over and smiled at me.
Quite dexterous of you, Clara.
You also managed to pull yourself to a standing position on the couch prior to going to bed, in a desperate effort to pet Rocky, your favorite dog to date. You barely even notice Kaleigh, but for some reason, Rocky thrills you beyond imagination.
Perhaps we can coax you into cartwheels by placing him on the other side of the room.
And of course, you were perfectly well behaved when we went out to visit a bookstore and grab some dinner. You chewed quite voraciously on your new book, Night Night Pookie and on the stolen spoon that your Mom carries with us to every restaurant.
You love spoons.
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