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Slice of Life by HOLLY TABOR
Our house has undergone something of a transformation in the past year. The toilet seat has become a drum, the bathtub a swimming pool. Chairs are instruments of Peek-a-boo and measuring spoons are playthings. A baby gate separates the living room from the rest of the house. The living room, by the way, is home to a stuffed cow, a sock monkey and Grover, along with about 30 music-making, gyrating plastic toys, and a couch. The remote is a telephone. The laundry basket is a car, with an engine sound reminiscent of “The Jetsons.” We have rubber bands on our cabinet door handles and plug covers on our outlets, and our books are made of cardboard. And we clap. A lot. We have a lot to clap about. My daughter turned 1 Sunday. And sometime, after the presents were opened, the cake demolished and the birthday wishes from friends and family proclaimed in word and song, I realized just how different things are for my husband and me than they were a year ago. Our house isn’t the only thing that has changed since our daughter was born. Life, in general, is an adventure, complete with narration, sound effects and songs made up spontaneously about anything from folding laundry to changing diapers. Everything is new and subject to use beyond its intended purpose, which often means one of us running interference between our daughter’s hand and mouth. There’s always something in one that shouldn’t be in the other. Free time is spent playing on the floor, which means sometimes we get carpet burns on our knees. Sometimes we have to clean food off the walls. Sometimes we go to bed too late and get up too early. Sometimes I think the only songs I know the words to are nursery rhymes, which, by the way, don’t always make sense. Nor do they have to. As our daughter explores and tries to make sense of the world around her, we find ourselves trying to do the same and realizing maybe, making sense is overrated. Does it make sense that our daughter would rather play with a plastic cup than a ladybug that lights up and plays music? Does it make sense to talk into a remote? Does it make sense that in a year, the lives of two adults can be completely rearranged to revolve around one adorable, cuddly little baby? Sure it does. Otherwise, we wouldn’t know there are few things a kiss, a hug and a cuddly blanket can’t fix, or at least make more bearable. There is no sound more perfect than the sound of our daughter giggling; and no better feeling than when she wraps her arms around our necks and nestles her head against our shoulders. These are things I didn’t know a year ago. These things make sense. How things have changed.
Holly Tabor can be reached at (270) 505-1745 or firstname.lastname@example.org.