I meant to write a whole other post for today, but have been having far too much fun reading the comments on my last one. So far I am either a filthy ANIMAL from whose custody all children should be speedily removed, or Everywoman. Sadly, I fear my own mother would place me in the former camp, as when I called her today to whine becomingly about my missing charm bracelet (since found behind the cushions of the couch) she icily remarked that it was probably hidden under a pile of debris.
“So you’ve seen the post then,” I said. I was pleased to be able to tell her that in fact, with the exception of the laundry (which we have collected in baskets subsequently stacked atop one another to form a towering obelisk) our house is quite neat at the moment, as the nanny was here today and I cleaned in anticipation of her visit.
This was the auxiliary nanny, the one I have hired for just three days in the next two weeks while Dr. Nanny is out of town. She came at nine-thirty, and I left to write until one, ate at the Indian restaurant across from the coffee shop, then retired to the gym for a spot of rope jumping. I returned home at two-thirty to a smiling baby (who had allegedly taken a nap), feeling happier than I have in weeks, and wondering when my child became so attractive and delightful. Absence makes the temper longer.
I am off to bed, now, but before I forget I must tell you that last week Simone said her first word, clear as day:
I was as surprised as you are. She hasn’t said it since, but then I haven’t been talking much about Lebanese politics myself, lately. This is the sort of thing that would make a lovely entry in her baby book, if I had ever gotten around to keeping one.