With a baby everything takes longer. Getting out the door is an orchestration of diaper changes, bag packing, and last minute nursing. Sometimes we don't even make it out the door. Sometimes even going to the corner for milk feels way too ambitious. But most of the time, things just happen slower. My to do list is long and neglected. It gets reshuffled daily, and often the little things, like sending a note of thanks, fall to the bottom.
On Christmas Eve, after a full day of work, and with exhaustion accompanying them at the starting line, Uncle J and Shanta drove six hours through the thick of night (crossing paths with Santa) to be with us on Christmas morning. I don't know why they willingly sacrificed their one day off to be woken up at the crack of dawn by a present crazed kid, but they did, and we were delighted. Though we did next to nothing (lounging all day in our pajamas, cat napping on and off, and playing with Uta), having them with us made it feel like Christmas. What made the day even more special was that Shanta baked. She made an old fashioned coffee cake, cheese cake, and cranberry walnut scones that were so good I am still mourning my last bite (eleven days later) and wondering when, if ever, I will eat a scone that good again.
Thank you! (A little belated but none the less heartfelt.)
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