“It’s an outrage!”
“She’s been robbed!”
These were the sounds of my children’s righteous indignation at the church nativity play rehearsal yesterday when they learned Jane would not be playing the role of Baby Jesus.
I for one agreed with the director: All Marys fours years of age and younger walking across a high stage should use a doll wrapped in swaddling clothes, end of discussion. But the fact that Jane’s adoring fans adamantly believed she was a shoe-in for the plumb role was endearing.
She may be sitting in the wings at the play this year, but make no mistake, Jane is a real live celebrity here at our house. I lent Luke my phone the other day to snap her picture and when he returned it five minutes later, there were 100+ photos of her in her car seat. Seven months old, and she’s already having to learn to deal with paparazzi.
But I think the rock band “The Police” phrased it best with, “Every little thing she does is magic.”
Take mastering the pincer grasp, for example. You know, the ability to pick up a Cheerio using thumb and forefinger. Jane’s starting to try her hand at it, but she still fumbles a few. Yesterday morning, all four of her admirers were crowded around her high chair, napkins clutched tightly in their fists like racing programs.
“I call the Cheerio stuck to the back of her hand with saliva!”
“I like my odds on the raisin, Cheerio, Lil’ Puff trifecta.”
“And it’s comin’ down the stretch! Come ooooonnnnnn Cheerio number three!!”
“Yes! By a nose! No really, look, it’s by her nose! It’s stuck to her snot!”
They pumped their fists in the air, hollered and high fived every time she managed to clumsily lift a morsel all the way to her lips.
“Aaaaannnnnddddd…It’s good, she scores!!” Chomp, chomp, chomp…
I can only imagine the pandemonium that’s sure to ensue when she starts crawling. My guess is it will look and feel something like drag racing down the hallway, Tokyo drift style.
Racing for pinks.