Well, no, I realize I’m not dada. But I’m dada’s mama, and that’s close enough.
No, wait . . . on second thought, I think my favorite time was feeding Colbie breakfast—and she wanted to do it herself, but I had to get that rice cereal in her someway: her physical development depends on it. She makes a grab for the spoon—and success! She gets a mitt-full of cereal and smears it, finger paint style, all over her hair. One point for Colbie, goose egg for Grandma.
Wait a second . . . maybe my favorite time is when she’s playing on the living room floor with Grandpa pushing her in the little car. Colbie sticks her feet straight out, throws her head back, and laughs like she’s going a hundred miles an hour.
Hold on. I forgot that for sure my favorite time is when she’s playing in the pool or the bathtub. I think she’s half water spaniel.
Or maybe my favorite time is when her lips turn blue and fingers are pruny, and it’s time to take her out and dry her off. When you're 9 months old, people wrap you in towels shaped like monkeys or birds or cartoon critters. It goes with the territory.
Or for sure my favorite time is when our Phoenix kids are all together and we’re just hanging around—or horsing around—or eating around—or laying around--or any kind of around. I just like being around them.