A B update

I’ve spent much of the last few weeks in New Hampshire communing with our two-year-old. The family agrees it’s a perfect match of people with simple needs and short attention spans, though one is charming and the other is, mmm, not.

This is the B a couple of weeks ago, picking blueberries with her mother and father on the beautiful Vermont farm where they were married. They had some rare family time and made the most of it.

The north country is beautiful right now—cooler, dryer, and with that distinctive autumn light making frequent appearances. Even a little rain! The leaves are just beginning to turn. Oddly, they seem to be a few days farther along down here in Connecticut. It’s beginning to smell like cross-country season.

A crew of us including sweet B, her mama, and I took in the huge New Hampshire Highland Games in Lincoln Saturday. Pipes, drums, and more kilts than I’ve ever seen in one place. Participants from Ontario, Nova Scotia, North Carolina, and, of course, Scotland. B loved it, though mostly because she got to ride on a school bus (parking lots were miles away), and was given a Tootsie Roll Pop by the driver. (It was Orange, thank goodness. I am a lifelong enthusiast of Grape, so we avoided an awkward moment.)

B is rolling out astonishingly long sentences these days. (“You come right over here and sit by me.”) She knows her letters and colors cold, and her numbers one to ten. Her favorite song is still “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” though she asked for Norah Jones on the way to the Games. She required me to sing my version of “Yellow Submarine” (still known to her as “WeWaWeWa”) in the car the other day, so her taste remains questionable. (Though she can identify both Ray Charles—“Way Tow!”—and B.B. King—“BeeBeeTing!”—so we’re making progress.)

For breakfast, B at 25 months prefers raisins and Animal Crackers.

(No, not this one.)

Animal Crackers both is and are out at 7:30 am, and raisins are limited due to rash complications, so she usually settles on a different dish: mine. We invariably wind up sharing my standard Wheaties with a little Grape Nuts (neither grape nor nut), topped with fruit. Guess who gets the fruit.

Ah, little B, I’ll miss you for the next three weeks. I’ll be looking forward to coming right over there and sitting by you. Even if you eat all my raspberries.



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