Ahhh…finally! I finally gave the baby a bath today without her either screaming her way through the bath or screaming through the post-bath dressing. Now I understand why people love bathing babies so much. To see her bright blue eyes looking up at me from the tub, so vulnerable, so trusting, so innocent and new. Her silly facial expressions, now that she’s getting the hang of the water, make my heart swell with joy. She’s like a little frog with her adorable round belly, kicking her froggy legs and squirming in my hands in all her slippery babyness. Man, it’s darling. I just want to give her mommy-smoochies forever.
And then to wrap her up in a towel and hug her and squeeze her until she’s warm and dry, her little face peeking out of the towel, making her look like a newborn Ewok (but without the facial hair). And to lay her down in her crib to be diapered, clothed, and swaddled, all while she looks up at me contentedly, sucking on her pacifier, waiting patiently for me to pick her up, presumably to feed her (yet again). There’s no smell as sweet as the freshly washed hair of your own baby. Well, except maybe the smell of the freshly washed hair of your own baby who has fallen to sweet, quiet, tearless sleep.
So, I’m sitting on the couch, cradling my precious daughter, revelling in her scent and how wonderful this little bonding moment has been, when she promptly spits up on my shoulder. Ah, lovely. My heart’s aflutter and I’m hopelessly twitterpated.