I had a terrific Easter-morning iChat with sweet B and her dada this morning. She’s wearing her mama’s hat here, though she doesn’t need it. New England is wonderfully balmy this weekend.
B can count to 10 now, and has her colors and shapes pretty reliably down. There’s occasionally some confusion, though. She was here last weekend, and was counting up some animals in a book: “Un, two, tee, four, fie, boo (it was a blue creature, after all), seba, eight.”
Since then she’s learned to climb up on the kitchen stools, and to scale play structures, either by ladder or by reascending the slides themselves. This, obviously, is one of those good-news/bad-news situations. Maybe I should buy her a harness and some mini-biners, and teach her little friends to belay.
A tells me that she is often mistaken for a boy these days. I’ve never understood why dressing a very small child in anything but pink or bright purple makes people assume “boy,” but the same thing used to happen all the time to H, too. Can’t they tell from the high voice and lack of whiskers?
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