Abby Is Her Own Scrapbook

By bedtime, Abby is her own personal souvenir of all of the fun we’ve had that day.

In her hair are bits of banana and cereal from breakfast.

On her leg is a mosquito bite from feeding the dogs in the cool morning.

On her forehead is a bruise from the time her enthusiasm exceeded her skill as she tried to toddle past the chair in her bedroom.

On her shirt is a smear of the avocado and beans she ate for lunch.

Her knees and the tops of her toes are smudged with dirt from crawling around on the kitchen floor as I cleaned up our dishes.

On her cheek is a faint impression of the carseat buckle from the long nap she took as I ran errands.

The smell of her grandmother’s perfume still clings to her clothes from a quick afternoon snuggle when we dropped by to say hi.

Under her fingernails is dirt from crawling around in the back yard while we waited for Daddy to get home.

Tucked into her cheek is a fragment of the paper she ate while emptying the recycling bin in the kitchen as I cooked dinner.

A little salad of green bean, saltine cracker, and peach from dinner is hidden behind her ear.

After I take out her rubberbands, her hair still sticks up in the shape of her two ponytails.

Then at bath time, we wipe the slate clean and get her ready to rest up for another day of fun!

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2 responses to “Abby Is Her Own Scrapbook

  1. Dear, dear baby…love her dirt and all.

  2. I love it- this is POETRY!

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