O Evabird, life moves so much faster in Oklahoma than it did in Brooklyn. Suddenly, your firsts are all slipping through my fingers; now you’ve done, done, done. You’ve sipped on Nana’s Diet Coke–when mama wasn’t looking!–and tasted cookies and petted a dog and fed yourself Cheerios and been through a carwash and spent all day by the pool and tried to steal a pacifier out of little Helen’s mouth and tasted lemon and gone underwater.
I’d think in heat this thick that the world would move so much more slowly, but every time I turn, you’re new. Happy seven month birthday, little bird. I promise I’ll try to savor all these moments; I’ve been told it goes far too fast.