A lazy Sunday afternoon. Yesterday to be precise. The Grand Prix murmuring away in the background.
Kitty, fingers smudged periwinkle blue from some overly enthusiastic rubber stamping earlier, and with at least one butterfly sticker attached to the back of her arm courtesy of the same artistic endeavour, squats on the carpet in front of her play kitchen, trying to build a Gruffalo jigsaw puzzle.
H has assumed the traditional Sunday afternoon fatherly pose and is lying in his arm chair, feet up in front of him, searching Pinterest for inspiration on how to build a daughter-sized castle out of cardboard boxes.
I’m flitting between finishing a little bit of blog coding that I started during Elma’s nap, helping Kitty with the puzzle and watching Elma pull out each of her toys from their blue plastic bucket and scatter them in a baby blast wave about her.
Elma is thinking.
Elma is watching Kitty, and more importantly, Kitty’s jigsaw puzzle.
She decides that jigsaw looks much more chewable than teddies, and reaches out for the box.
It’s too far away.
So she rolls forwards onto all fours, and slowly, smidgen by smidgen.
Elma crawls towards the scattered segments of Gruffalo.
And she’s been practicing ever since:
Although I think she may have aspirations beyond her current abilities given how often she headed for the slide!
I love her little concentrating face, and that sticky out tongue.
Oh this is going to change everything!