Finally, a Call!

Baby care update: an occupational therapist called, which is great news. Amelia can have her first body therapy session next Tuesday (I find myself supplying an adjective to the word therapy--it sounds too bizarrely weird to say in plain speech, the baby needs therapy). The catch: the only available time is 5.30 pm, and the little babe calls it a day by six. Amelia's an early sleeper. The OT, who will be known here as T, to protect her privacy, said she'll be flexible, try to get here by 5.15, and that the last fifteen minutes are paperwork anyway. We'll make it work. My fantasy of participating in a public health system that works helps me be more cooperative, I tell you. Hooray, especially as my route into privately paid baby body therapists was leading me toward having to drive 40 minutes each way to the Theraplay office. I do want to believe that the public health system for babies can work.

In other news, we are becoming a minivan family. Replacing our totalled station wagon with an even larger vehicle. The jump feels great (the room, the carpool possibilities, drink holders for twelve lattes) and harsh. We borrowed my father-in-law's car for a few days. It's a Sebring convertible, and he's the 80-something year old man who drives it (good for him! )

My visceral response to my husband: you take the minivan, I'll take the convertible. I still want to be the one driving into the sunset with the wind in my hair.

I suppose we can always borrow it when the urge hits.