A really good evening with Alice. First, when I went to pick her up, I found out that she had had a painful poop that interrupted her nap -- this was unfortunate. The silver lining? When Mel the nanny went in to check on her, Alice was asking for me to come help her! Huzzah!
Second, we had a really nice dinner at Chipotle, where she sat across from me like a big girl and we enjoyed some lively conversation regarding what she did today (played with mommy, read, sang, pooped).
Third, after we came home we spent some time sitting on the stoop of our building, at her insistence. Alice would play in her little orbit around me -- climb up the steps, climb back down, jump from the last step to the pavement. I was singing songs, counting to three for her to jump, clapping my hands as she made it to the ground. At one point she put her hand on my shoulder and said: "Please stop talking."
(A few minutes later she fell down the steps and earned a large knot on her forehead, but she's ok.)
Fourth, I was giving her a bath and I sneezed loudly. She looked at me. "Oh," she said. "...boy." And it was funny.
Fifth, on "American Idol" last night some contestant sang Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me." (A song that lives on through my marriage, when we often tell each other, "don't patroniiiiiiiize me.") After we read books we sat in the dark for a few minutes and sang songs. After the old standbys ("Happy birthday," ABCs, "Doe a deer," "Twinkle, twinkle," etc) I sang "I Can't Make You Love Me." She leaned against me and just listened, and when I finished she pulled back to tell me, "I like that one."
My girl. These are the moments. The scary thing is that I can feel my memories blurring already; it's hard for me to distinguish 12-month Alice from 18-month Alice. So I write it here in the hope of preserving a few of the remarks, the laughs, the songs she enjoys through the night.