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Yesterday we talked again about the baby growing in my tummy. Casper wanted to see it, so I got out the ultrasounds. She liked them at first and said "this one is mine" and walked off with it, but soon enough was crumpling them and throwing them in the trash. Then we had a frantic little moment with her on my lap trying fiercely to get into my bra to nurse. This was defused by the novelty of a walk outside, in the dark (7pm), barefoot (it was still probably 70 degrees). When things seemed better we went in and looked at all the pictures of Casper as a baby and talked about when she was a baby.

So, normal anxiety. The motif of putting the new baby in the trash is one I hear from so many parents; it's interesting. I'd love it if we could get this out of her system before the new baby is actually here.

Words Casper mispronounces habitually:
amimals (animals)
nackin (napkin)
targo pants (cargo pants)

Date: 2006-03-03 03:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] casperflea.livejournal.com
I have no idea where targo pants came from. We don't call them cargo pants at home; maybe it's a school thing. They are, in fact, cargo pants (if corduroy), but at first I thought she was trying to specify pants bought at Target or something.

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