Out Came the Sun and Dried up All the Rain

When I got there yesterday, she was on her knees in the middle of the rug, surrounded by dancing toddlers. The Itsy-Bitsy Spider played on a CD and she bounced up and down, throwing her arms over her head and waving them around. She saw me over her shoulder and smiled, then stood up and bounced so ferociously she was almost jumping. She twisted her wrists and threw her head back, laughing. The Itsy-Bitsy Spider is her jam. No matter her mood, if I start with the hand motions and the singing about the spider, she is quietly mesmerized.

Last night when we got home we cranked the music in the living room and bounced around like idiots on the rug, trying to inspire Mirabella to dance for her daddy. We blared Ben Folds and Regina Spektor and Mirabella broke it down. She got low. The Boy captured it all on video, along with her giggly antics and several weeks of other milestones. After dinner and bath and bed I opened the camera to review the footage. I saw nothing but videos from months ago. Everything was gone.

"I'm not mad at you; I'm just mad," The Boy fumed when I sniffled into my pillow and asked why he was blaming me. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, and I knew it didn't really matter. I knew it was a few big weeks, not a life. But still.

She walks now, and it looks about as natural to me as if our puggle, Mosotos, started walking on his hind legs. She's gotten good enough at it now that she can be nonchalant, only rarely pausing to cheer for herself. When I got there today, she stood in her dancing spot in her tiny pink Pumas.

"Did you have a good day?" I asked

"Miss Thing went to timeout today," Aunt Nae reported. "She and Devin couldn't stay away from the stairs."

This is not her first trip to timeout. My mother likes to tell me I've got a "strong-willed child" on my hands.

Tonight while we ate grilled Asian turkey skewers and scallions, she cried in her crib. She's been on a veggie strike, and don't even think about feeding her from a spoon. I brought her a bottle, guessing she was hungry. We sat in her rocker, wrapped in a blanket and in the glow of her ladybug nightlight she leaned back to smile and wave at me, several inches from my face. I sang the Itsy-Bitsy Spider and she stared and wiggled her fingers and hummed. I squeezed her and laid my head on her head, snuggled beneath my chin, squinting my eyes and telling myself there are some things videos can't touch.