I’m going to call my three youngest children my ‘baby tribe’ from now on, I think.
For instance, we decided to go in the pool. So I’m wrangling “baby suits” (according to my toddler) onto my children’s bodies so we can go kerplunk for a while. Suddenly, I hear a “meh” from a-far. The baby had wandered up the stairs, behind my back (no worries, he calls to us with a ‘meh’ every time he’s reached the top, kind-of like a “hey, idiots! I manhandled the gate and escaped again!” in baby-speak [loosely translated]).
Once at the top, he is scared to come down, having an overall fear of heights in general. He won’t even lean towards you sitting on the couch, or the stairs, he is so afraid. He just ‘knows’ he can fall. I can’t explain it. He must be a baby genius or something.
Anyway, in attempting to rescue my youngest, my baby tribe follows me. All three of us, giggling, calling to our ‘meh’ baby, cooing and dancing and smiling as we round the corner. He won’t lunge for us. He won’t dare go near the edge. It’s so funny how he’ll climb up but not down.
Me and my baby tribe dangled our tootsies in the pool. We visited the commissary. We played in the rain. It was a nice day together – last day for a while just the three of us. The biggest of the baby tribe has started school full-time, no more staggered start, no more testing the waters.
Our baby tribe is getting smaller. I can’t imagine a day when there’s no baby tribe at all. {gulp}
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