This past summer when I wanted to paint my toe nails and it just was not going to happen with Maggie crawling all over me. Instead of shoving the nail polish back in the cupboard where it tends to gather dust, I plopped Maggie into her Bumbo that we keep on the bathroom counter and painted her little piggies. She loved it and I have to admit that her toes looked really cute painted.
I never really thought that I’d be THAT mother, pampering and painting our nails together, but now it has become a ritual…and she’s gotten really good at blowing on her toes while we wait for them to dry. Last night I was at book group and my friend Betsy was talking about her grand-niece that is a little older than Maggie that paints her own nails. I’m not sure that I’m ready to go down that road with Maggie. But to be honest I’m pretty certain that Maggie would be able to do just as good of job or even better. Nobody has ever called me an artist.
That day of Maggie wanting to do everything herself is fast approaching. Just this morning while we got ready to take Sydney on a walk, she worked for at least 15 minutes to put on pants. She put them on and took them off no fewer than 4 times and by the time she did get them on, they were backwards. I was more interested in getting outside for our walk, so I kept that tidbit to myself. When I asked her if she’d like to put her boots on, she gave a hearty ‘yes!’ and headed off to find her almost too small pink cowgirl boots. Thankfully it doesn’t take near as long for her to slide her piggies into those boots.
But really, I mostly notice how much of a sponge she really is. She likes to read books in the car and depending on the book, I can tell she’s really trying to emulate the words or, in Frosty’s case, the song. She really likes the part when Frosty runs away.
My, how we’ve evolved. I’ve been working on her one year photo book (I know, she’s getting closer to 2) and I am astounded at how little she really was. She seems so grown up now, nails painted, backwards pants and all. Remember when she was just a nugget in our arms?
