Edith has a little rubber duck in a coolie hat that she got for free from the pediatrician and it is one of her favorite toys. We now use it almost exclusively in the bath. If I “swim” it up to her through the bath water saying “quack, quack, quack” she consistently looks at it coming toward her with what I can only describe as a gently fond smile. It’s a very particular sort of smile — it seems to say, “aw, here comes this guy again. Look at this guy, he always does this.”
It is SO CUTE. I swim the duck to her every single night because I love this response so much, and I know I’m going to remember this fond little smile as one of the most representative moments of her babyhood. One day she won’t react this way anymore, and it will break my heart, but I can picture this smile perfectly in my mind. It seems extraordinary to say, but even if the only thing Edith brought to my life was this one perfect little smile, I truly believe that alone would make my whole existence worth bothering with.
Accismus 