...I was strolling through Prospect Park when I happened upon a very large egg. It started to rumble and crack, and out popped a fully-dressed (and very angry) little girl.
She was so adorable, I had to take her home with me. I named her Cheburashka, and we lived happily ever after.
Okay, so it didn't happen quite that way. The truth is, we were in a Manhattan hospital and she didn't arrive fully dressed. And I was the one doing the screaming. Can you blame me? Look at the size of that kid:
Though we did live happily ever after. She was a giggly little baby.
But she did grow up quite fast. there was hardly any time at all between learning to walk
and insisting that I stay behind as she walked into school for the first time.
And today she's seven years old, no longer fits perfectly into my lap, and is a smart, funny, sweet, independent
little widgie-woo girl. I do miss the chubby cheeks and rolls of baby fat (now when I hug her, it's all elbows and knees), but I like what she's become.