Baby Mummy

It's a marvel to me, how, every night, when I check on Julia before going to bed, she is wrapped up about nine different ways in her kid-sized blanket. There's not that much yellow gingham fabric, really, and yet it's twice around her body, three times around a leg, and wadded under an arm. But one foot is still bare and hanging over the edge of the bed.

Unrolling her, I'm always afraid I'll tug the wrong edge of the blanket too hard and send Julia spinning off the mattress. To which she'd probably respond with her current catchphrase, "What going on here?"

email: christopher at tassava dot com