Day 50

My granddaughter Luna.

Luna having a conversation with her visitor Teddy, the dog-next-door. Note the dearest little tender back-of-the-neck.

Luna is one of the most delicious characters I have ever met.  Today was a busy day.  There were a number of firsts:
She stood on those two little feet for about 10 seconds without holding on to anything, clapping her hands while I sang.
She waved goodbye to grandpa in America when I asked her to, adding the most charming grin imaginable.
She said "Hello" and "doggy" clearly, several times.
She tried to put her own sock on and almost succeeded.
She cried in dismay that I was not accompanying them as Emma took her inside, her tearful face gazing back down the path at me where I was unpacking the grocery bags from the car. 

In other news:
I was looking after the baby and getting dressed while Emma showered, and Luna suddenly noticed with great joy that I also possessed breasts like her mother, and came crawling as fast as she could up to me, then babbled urgently and put out her little arms to be picked up.  She immediately set to work trying to undress what she had observed, even making the excited little sounds she makes just before she is fed by her mother.  It was the sweetest vote of confidence in my ability to nurture her, in my connection to her as part of her bloodline, and I almost wished that I could produce again the abundant milk with which I had fed all my own children. 

As she is no longer contagious, we took Luna out to do the shopping and went for coffee at a sweet little coffee shop called BB's, short for Because Because, with poetry all over the walls.  We took Luna to a table right near the back, where it was completely empty, so that people would not be shocked at her appearance, as she still looks as though she has the plague, with big spots crusting over and chalky patches all over her skin, including her head, from the calamine lotion.  (We both agreed that if we had seen a baby like that we would have thought there was something seriously wrong and tried to keep our children away from her.)  Emma got us two coffees and a dainty little cupcake for Lunes, which she proceeded to eat with gusto, creating a small outline of crumbs under her chair, until she discovered that icing is not that wonderful to eat, but great to squish between your fingers, and also that it spreads very nicely over the table-top and your pram-cover sitting conveniently next to you. 

Presently an elegant young mother walked in and pushed her pram over to the table adjoining ours, even though there were many spare tables further away.  It was not with any idea of friendship, as they both ignored us from the beginning in a very complete way.  Her little daughter was about the same age as Luna, with an immaculate bob of black hair and a perfect red ribbon decorating it.  The flawless little thing sat in her pram under the covers like a small porcelain-skinned angel, eating a snack which her mother had given her from a container in her bag, in a delicate crumb-less way, while Luna smiled her big spotty-faced smile at her, until she realized that the other child was not going to acknowledge her.  Turning her attention back to the spreading of icing on the table-top, she quickly tired of that and decided that she would now calmly climb out of the high chair.  She was doing a pretty good job of succeeding in her endeavour when Emma helped her out and plopped her down, somewhat exasperatedly, on her lap.  Turning around and clambering to stand on her mother, Luna noticed the interesting bumps of drawing-pin-like decorations on the walls and proceeded to try to pick them off with her excellent fine motor coordination, and when that didn't work, attempted to bite them off using her very few, rather small, teeth to do the job.  When cautioned that this was not a good idea, she threw her arms up in abject desperation.

Three days old

Four month old mermaid

six-month old charmer

Eleven-month old spotted sweetpea

So this is our Luna: Luna of the direct gaze, Luna the music-lover, Luna the dramatic one, Luna the abstract thinker moving a box over to stand on as an aid in her attempt to be tall enough to climb on to the couch, Luna with the hands and gestures of her great-grandmother, Luna who talks to dogs, Luna the mermaid, Luna of the sweetest smiles, Luna the experimenter, Luna the curious, Luna the engaging charmer, Luna, who, in two days' time will be one year old, Luna, my first granddaughter, Luna, named for the moon, Luna the magnificent.