Yesterday morning, J pulled out his baby book from his book shelf. "Why is it empty, mommy?" Speechless, I shrugged. I had no good reason for the barren pages in the baby book (aka. the requisite memory book carefully crafted by only good mothers). It appeared that I started to fill everything out... His birthdate, weight, family statistics... even details on his first words and foods. But at 15 months, I stopped. No pictures, and no hand or foot prints.
"Can we do it now, Mommy? Can I do a footprint now?"
Luckily, he caught me in a moment of pure frazzle. School was out. I had a ton of work to do. I had very little coffee in my system. And back up adult help was hours away.
I put the baby book (with the welcome home sign my mom made still inside) on the floor. With an almost size 12 shoe and dried up ink, I could see that 5 years ago, this project would have been a lot easier.
A few minutes and lots of paper towels later, we had a size 11.5 foot representing our house.
Guess it's never too late to capture a memory... and feel like a good mommy.
1 comment:
Hysterical!! Scarlett doesn't even have a baby book : / Wyatt does. That is the worst of all "bads" as a mom.
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