Had a conversation with the neighbor about expectations for the wedding trip. I'm feeling much better now. We are all planning on being as safe as we can be, masking and washing hands, and best of all, the groom is scaling back bachelor party silliness. He says he feels no need to go to strip clubs. The guys will just have a dinner at a steak house he has chosen, and then they'll probably wander around the Fremont Street Experience. We don't know yet about the bride's determination to go to something like Thunder Down Under. I certainly will be skipping that. Not sure about the two 30-something young women who will be sharing a hotel room with us. The potential viral exposure from my companions attending these activities was what stressed me the most. In all other situations, I feel like I can keep my distance and be safe. My confidence level of avoiding the Rona is rising.
Three days in a row now, I've had my baby over here. You know I'm loving it. I think she is having a good time, and feeling independent about traveling all around the place. She has a lot of freedom to explore, which makes her happy and engaged. I just wish she wasn't so determined to stick her fingers in the houseplants by the front window.
She and her grandpa went to the park while I lay down for a bit this afternoon. I would like to say I napped, but I was not so fortunate. When they came back, she crawled on the bed with me, and looked out my window, flung her juice-filled sippy cup everywhere, and covered her moist hands with dog hair. (I swear I just pulled the quilt out of the dryer yesterday!) We were naming things, or more specifically, she was pointing and poking things, saying "huh," and I was giving them names. At one point I asked her did she know where her butt was. She thought about it for a minute, then put her hands and head on the mattress, straightened her legs, and waved her tiny hiney at me. Kid's smart. She doesn't need both hands to find her own butt.
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