Once in a while I'll crack a smile.
Mom calls it 'finding-my-get-up-and-go.' I call it a smile. It’s elicited under special circumstance: dry diaper, full tummy, and a cheerful, semi-familiar person in my midst. (What can I say? This sweet-but-serious persona has its rewards. You should hear the reaction I get when the smile actually does appear. One wouldn’t want it to happen too often.)
In other news, Dad recently acquired a pasta roller. (Happy birthday, Dad!) It’s one that attaches right to his Kitchen Aid: pretty tight if you ask me. What precipitated this purchase of new-fangled technology, you ask? Well, Dad loves to cook. Apparently, Mom once watched Dad try to roll homemade pasta by hand.
Once.
After a whole bunch of muscle, a couple-few ounces of perspiration and a smattering of four-letter words, Mom figured once was enough.
It's seven weeks to the day since my birthing debut, I’ve decided we’re having quite the time. In addition to a plethora of fresh pasta and my newly functioning facial muscles, the week brought with it 30+ trick-or-treaters, a historic Viking/Packer football game (Dad doesn’t want to talk about that one), and the celebration of Mom and Dad’s first anniversary. All in all, life in Corrigan Conrad abode brings many reasons to smile.
