Somebody else’s baby.

Our friends recently had a little girl. By recently, I mean about two weeks ago. Her name is Joan Marie, and she has RED hair, and is skinny, skinny, skinny, and STUH-RONG. We went to see her today after church. She was nursing, and then I changed her diaper and and held her while her momma took care of her belly button and put a band-aid on her finger which has a little infection from an “ingrown” nail of sorts. It took BOTH of us to get the band-aid on.

She screamed throughout the large majority of our first 15 minutes together, did little Joan Marie. So, I asked her momma if she could still be hungry and her momma said the bar was closed. I finally took her up to her GLORIOUSLY decorated room, which was dark-ish and quiet and had a rocking chair. Victoria followed, but no one else did. I did not blame them.

Their rocking chair is the EXACT same one that we have, so it was mighty comfy and familiar. I plunked myself and the screaming Joan Marie down, and we rocked and rocked and rocked. And Victoria watched. And Joan screamed. And we rocked. And lather, rinse, repeat. But after a few minutes, the silence and and the dark and the rocking took over, and Joan got quiet, then she got sleepy, then she fell asleep.

And Victoria said, “You’re gonna have to teach me how to do that.”

It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch.

And it was also nice to leave her there and take my two potty-trained children who no longer need naps to go out to eat lunch.

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