L picked up a new skill on Sunday morning. It occupied her for hours. She figured out how to push her lips together and blow bubbles. And raspberries. And then more bubbles. She was delighted with herself. Of course, watching her, E wanted to play, too. But hers weren't bubbles. They were somewhere between accelerated drooling and outright spitting. Not as cute. Kinda gross, in fact. Ickies, as she would say, if she wasn't busy being equally delighted with herself.
In the afternoon E had another birthday party to attend, this one for her friend Liam. It was at a local child-oriented aviation museum. There were a bunch of old, old planes that she could climb on and sit in, and she spent a lot of time "driving" an old blue propeller plane with Audrey and SMA as her copilots. We saw so many old things, and she kept emphasizing how old they were when we saw them, but I didn't realize why that was so significant to her until the drive home. I thought she was simply enjoying the novelty of old things that look different, so I saw something that I thought she would enjoy and I pointed it out to her. We were stopped at a red light next to a pickup truck that was probably, I'm guessing, from the 1950s. I said, "Hey, E! Look at that old, old truck!" And finally, the problem she had been working on all afternoon came out. "It's old, Mama?" And I replied, "Yes, for a truck, that one is very, very old." "Mama, should we put it in the garbage?"