Yar! Give Me Figs!

Bama had a play date with her friend the Sweet Girl yesterday. Sweet Girl and her mama live a few blocks from us. The mama reminds me of a reporter I used to work with. I learned the term "eat glass" from him. She has the same kind of tough exterior with good humor and mushiness that he had.

She offered to watch Bama and give me a few free hours — a few of our friends have helped out with Bama as Mister's been sick has been tough on all of us. Uncle Twaffi came for an afternoon (including lunch but no diapers) while Mister napped and I cleaned up the basement. Aunty Cake drove me around and ran birthday errands while Mister watched Bama until he needed to sleep (and he slept for about five hours straight).

Anyway. My mama friend asked Bama over to hang out with Sweet Girl. It was awesome. I left as the girls were exploring the toy box. When I came home, Sweet Girl was asleep, and Bama was by the window with my mama friend. I made a run to Target (a word of warning: when you have limited time to get into a store, you will buy foolishly unless you have a list) to make exchanges. They had a great time, I got something that would have been unfun done.

My mama friend has some beautiful figs from her fig tree. She gave us some to take home. Bama ate two that night for dinner, and another at breakfast. She's making a transition to being able to have the plate in front of her without upending it. Same thing with the bowls, as you can see in the picture. For a time, a bowl meant many things, but none of them bowl-ie. I think of it like learning to drive, when you look over your shoulder to check traffic and pull the wheel, and therefore the car, with you. The baby wants to explore the bowl and in doing so, dumps its contents. Spoons, forks, same concept.

So my girl seemed pretty pleased with herself as she ate her figs and held onto her bowl without losing either to me. She even fed me a couple of bits. Sweet thing.

(The bib and the sweater both came from Bama's Nana Jean, our surrogate nana on Mister's side. She stays out in Michigan every summer, and brings things home from the local craftsters. Her grand-daughter, who is three years older than Bama, has a similar sweater and bibs. The sweater is AWESOME. It's the perfect sailor front for easy on/off with sleeves that fold up nicely into 3/4 sleeves. I (heart) it.)

Yar! Give Me Figs!

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