Birth in the Park

At a very large, very crowded urban park recently, pickin' up on the neighboring mommy blanket, I chatted friendly with a couple of other crunchy mamas.  A bit later I was slightly agape watching her 2 year old strip down nude and birth her baby doll.

Yes, read it again.  Mama encouraged her daughter through the doll-birthing process, "that's right, push the baby out" and "you're such a good mommy."

It took me almost a week to process the feelings that came up with this experience.

The first thing that happened, Monk-A-Doodle, my token lovin'-naked-life-child, came to ask "it's okay to be naked outside?" 

Carefully I said, "yes, it is okay to be naked outside. Though, sweetheart," surveying the expanse, "I'm not comfortable as this park is so big, and so busy right now, so just keep your swimsuit on, okay?"  This child is so very tactile in her soothing and cuddling, I also couldn't be sure what she'd do.  

To be socially responsible I've learned to take others' comfort level into account.  (Incidentally if we had and expanse of private land, there'd definitely be some instance of naked baby butts outside.  Butt then there's this option.)  I guess I've become somewhat a prude in my maturing mommy-hood years, or maybe it's because I've little girls and I'm too aware of over-sexualization of young girls in our society.

As for the mock birth the little girl played out, it's probably a realistic throwback to tribal days when all the women and girls were involved on some level to aid a woman giving birth.  It actually caused me to think I might've taken a different tack with F, but the way things occur in this era---I answer the questions that come up in an honest succinct manner, careful not to over-answer (this book is great).  Introducing life experience subject matter like birth and nursing makes sense, even if they mayn't have a conscious memory of the pretending, it would hopefully match their intuitive nature later on, making the whole experience less frightening.  

Maybe that momma was a doula or a midwife and it's part of their daily life experience, it brought up interesting thought process for me.  In a follow-up conversation a dear friend helped with a final aspect I had been struggling with but hadn't been able to put to words.  It was the public nature of the display.  Birth, like death I think, is an intensely private experience.  We invite only trusted people and family into that experience, and typically carefully choose our location for focus and comfort. The very public nature of that particular park, well, it was a shock to my system.

I'm beginning to love all manner of challenging experiences.  Life is good, all the time!

my babies nursing their baby dolls

First Born & Parental Regret

Last night I read some pieces from a baby specific journal I've been keeping for the past 8 years.  Eight because it includes notes from ladies and mommas from my baby showers.  From the Firstborn through to last night I've been keeping as good a record as possible for Babies' Firsts and familial Banner Days.

This morning I came across a short video of Miss Monkey on her 3rd birthday....and it hurt.  Touched a sore spot I didn't know I had.  First time parent trying so hard to get it right.  Though it was apparent through my journal notes I had an awareness of the miraculous, I had yet to soak in it, to apply the mystic concepts of parenthood, i.e. limitless compassion, respecting the miracle, and unconditional loving with abandon.

So, to my firstborn daughter:  

I love you, so very much, I wanted so badly to make a good "first impression" with you, on your little life.  My regret looking back, I could've done better, faster.  We do the best we can with what we have, and I had already come much farther from my origin.  Though it hasn't been perfect by my definition, I can have faith that it's perfect in God's way.  One day you will surely understand, and from here, though there will still be some mistakes, I will do better by you, love.

And to my Self:  

It's okay, dear Ada, it's okay.  It's All, All Right in the end.   Just Keep Loving Forward.

Miss Monkey, 4 years ago

just a few days ago

All in a day's work

Monkey milestones

still sleeps on the floor now and then

On stage as the Evil Queen for Snow White

crazed for the tooth fairy

Mathematics block this month

random Quirkle fun

Christmas Meaning

From our Christmas Mindfulness Questions
Day 1: What does Christmas really mean to me?

Truly before I had a baby it meant more about gifting and generosity than spiritually.  Now that I have personal understanding of the miraculous gift of life and consciousness Christmas takes on new meaning for me.  Especially since we have such a wonderful spiritual community to share it all with the whole season has snapped into a new dimension.  I still get a big charge from gifting to friends and family, I love surprising someone with a gift that has been brewing in my mind for months.  I adore shopping for Toys for Tots drives,  and the Angel Trees.  It's so fun to model generosity, to get excited, and keep the "gimmees" away.  This year, without means, I had to surrender any expectation of what I might purchase, work with The Man about how much/when/what we would purchase (practicing Unity of Purpose)---I couldn't plan a thing, surrendering totally on yet another level.  Would that I had infinite supply at my disposal in the form of money all the time and I might try and gift everyone all year long.  I want to do more, I always have wanted to do more, be of service in a bigger way.  Fortunately I recognize the power of the Spoken Word (b.k.a. prayer) and I do have an infinite immediate supply of prayerful abundance words for the world. (got a thrill of joyful goosebumps just now)

I know the history of Christmas celebration, the cobbling together of all the pagan/christian/roman/nordic symbolism that has become what we covet today, and I bring it lightly into conversation with my kiddos so they'll understand the history and significance rather than doggedly following without understanding.  I really appreciate and identify with the symbolism of re-birth of Christ Consciousness, our highest self, newly created, newly arrived, completely un-spoilt, beautiful, brilliant and wondrous---the way we all are when we first arrive here.  That's what "keeping Christmas well" throughout the year means to me, embodying that loving, compassionate, high consciousness every day of the year.  We don't have to let the outside material world determine the inside, we can reclaim this newly birthed beauty every moment, every day by simply getting still and Knowing the I AM is within always and all ways.

Happy Christmas!

: )   A

Smile-faces for papa

Heart melting milestone.

HOORAY! HORSES!

After a busy-busy morning at Mile Hi, we serendipitously were able to hang
with these three, Fabulous Frankie, Hippie, and Ruthie.  Enthusiastically I helped clean hooves, taught Miss Monkey to use a horse brush, and labeled different parts of tack and horse anatomy for her (dusting off what I remembered).  I grinned ear to ear listening to hooves on gravelly sand, leathery creaks, horse-breath, snuffles, and lip-pops. There is NOTHING better. I laid on a horse neck and inhaled deep salty horse sweat, laughing tears of a child's
joy.  This was my feeling of total loving abandon as a kid, and I reveled
in it! It is freedom of another, almost forgotten, kind.

And how amazing to introduce my daughters to these things, so special for me.  F proudly rode easy bareback on her own. E didn't want to stop riding once on. I got to practice both saddled and bare back a bit, totally different use of muscles I'd forgotten.

After mandatory ice cream, we headed home tired and happy. I didn't even mind (much) the quasi-crazed dinner/bedtime we had because of sugar & over tired-ness.
I am so grateful!
Happy, HAPPY DAY!
: )  <3 p="p">

Marvelous Monkey

I've had this post in mind since yesterday.
On our way to meet The Man at the gym, Miss Monkey seems to be struggling, gratefully I am aware enough to notice when it isn't something that can wait, she needed some time. And what might be so dramatic as to cause a mama pause?  Her sudden realization that her kitten isn't a kitten anymore, and he never will be again.

It started with her comment that she hated Darth Siddius because he wasn't a tiny little kitten anymore.  Then some lament about how she wouldn't want him to grow at all.  After consoling her, commiserating a little from my experience watching her grow so big from a tiny baby, how I miss her as a baby but I do love her wonderful big girl state now, and how I've loved every moment between.  Shortly, she came around to a more thinking state. 

Passage of time is such a gift. To know, really really know, that not a thing stays the same catalyzes understanding of our rare and precious experiences. I asked her if she thought the kitten would still act a kitten if he were to stay small--yes of course he would, right? I had to dash that fantasy, "no sweetheart, if he stayed small, he would grow and learn from inside, his kitty spirit would change with time, then eventually he would be an old cat in a kitten body. That sounds kinda sad to me."

To be in the moment to moment present, with no clinging to conditions or objects or actions, there can be only love....get some serious loving acceptance around impermanence....well here I am learning it and teaching it.
Happiest of precious, fleeting, days.
: )  <3

The Summer Melted Away

 

But not without a flurry of activity before it was really over.  In classic form a very real shift in weather happened Labor Day weekend and since then we’ve not had a day over 75, with nice cool nights and almost chilly mornings, along with a lot of afternoon showers.  It was a pleasant summer I think, the hottest days occurring late August, just as it “should” be.

In typical end of summer quasi-panic I realized I wanted to connect with several Mamas and kiddos before summer totally quit and I set up lots of visits and activities, we were out doing doing doing (hence I was not inside writing).   So, an update of whatnot.

Toddler E is starting to be more and more interested in toileting, she really enjoyed practicing on the potties in the consignment shop (yes, people do consign potty chairs and the like).  She is adept at letting me know when her diaper is dirty and will tell me when she has gone “shee-shee”, signing as well.  We need to go ahead and make available child size toilet seat and tiny potty chair for her, maybe speed the process along.  She talks, big sister taught her, “No!” and “Mine!”  Then of course there are Mama, Papa, Bye-Bye (with kisses blown), Duurhtee, and many other semi-gibberish interpretations.  Maybe I’m more aware this time around, the quickness of progressive learning is amazing to me, and the silliness this one possesses is different, I observe, from the serious intensity of The Firstborn. 

Miss Monkey has started Homeschool Connection on Mondays, then Rising Tigers (invitational pre-competitive team) 3 evenings a week, Fridays we’ve our little co-op Mile Hi Mommas have put together, and the middle days are chock full of other activity.  I’ve yet to purchase a solid curriculum to work from, though we read a LOT, and explore even more.  Yesterday F & I had a touching conversation about growing up and how hard it seems.  Tried to impress upon her that she’s lucky to be aware of her growing so that one day she can look back and think, “it was so fun when I was little enough to do that!”  She’s been growing through some stuff lately, and Love n Logic has helped immensely.  Enki will be a wonderful diversion from standard homeschool curriculum it seems, fostering my own passion for learning to ignite my children’s.  This system expects that the curriculum should serve the family and not the other way ‘round.  Also, that trying to DO too much can backfire, down time (a.k.a. boredom) is the breeding ground for imagination.

Labor Day weekend The Man and I celebrated—yes actually set aside time and celebrated—eight years of marriage.  We tripped up to Vail for a night and a day to see the Gospel Prayer Meetin’ of the annual Jazz Festival.  The first time in 5 years that we’ve taken an overnight trip alone, it was fantastic.  We returned refreshed and enjoyed the rest of the weekend with the girls.

More to come, it’s late now and I’ve dreams to meet.

Really, sitting here, hangin' out before I pull the brownies from the oven and dash to see The Man at his office, random Friday afternoon...plump one is "big sigh" looking for what comes next and making the uber-cute baby noises but hasn't started classic crawling and sits, waiting for more entertainment...the other is lounging in her dress up heels mentions a broken foot while trying to snatch dust from the air, sings a gibberish song introducing her baby doll to baby sister.

Who are these people?  Did I really birth them?  or were they beamed here from someother plane of existence?

Humorista

Miss Monkey, other than the self explanatory slap-stick silliness.

Situation 1:  

Papa singing in the kitchen, loudly, operatically, about chicken soup or ramen noodles.  She trots to her room specifically to dig out a kazoo-like ocarina shaped tooter, pokes her head around the door and "ttoooooots" into his song.  She grins, we laugh.

Situation 2:  

Sitting around a table, the two of them are facing me. I'm relaying the events of the morning, visiting fabulous neighbors, etc.  The Man says, "oh, you have something on your face...a smudge of something."

"What?  I do?" says I.

"Yeah," says he.

 "Really?  'cause that would suck, I mean, I would swear that if I really had something on my face then one of the moms would have said something to me....Miss Monkey, do I have anything on my face?"

Small pause, as she considers, then without prompting of any kind, with poker face, "Yeah, you do!"

"Whaaat???"

And as he couldn't handle it anymore, my loving husband bursts out laughing, as does Fiona.  Ganging up on me already.

Situation 3:

The other evening, returning home, the first born notices my husband wearing my Broncos cap (yes a bit embarrassing at this point considering their latest games).  She's been experimenting with our given names lately, and we repeatedly ask her to call us Mama and Papa or Dadah(her concoction of Papa & Daddy).  So, here he comes wearing my cap.  "Mama, Gary's wearing your hat!  Mama, GARY is wearing your Broncos hat! MAMA, GARY IS WEARING YOUR BRONCOS HAT!"

From the other room I hear, "Please! call me Papa, I really prefer it when you call me Papa!"

Back in the kitchen, "Ada! Papa's wearing your hat!" too smart, and too too funny.

Resurrection of the Sock Monkey

When I was really small, probably same age Miss Monkey is now, I remember cutting foam up to re-stuff a sock monkey.  I'm actually not sure if Mom made it for me from scratch, but it's possible considering the era.  I have recollection of the way the foam felt under the shears, clipping it io workable pieces.  I remember his mirror button nose being too floppy for my discerning four year old taste, staring at my reflection for eons.  When Sock Monkey wasn't turning out exactly how I imagined, he was a bit lumpy and misshapen, I also remember being afraid to ask for something more or different,  fearing the answer, guilty of asking at all.  I'm working on this new gig, asking for what I want, being specific, and realizing that I needn't feel bad or be afraid of the answer.  I'm here just like everyone else, neither above nor below.  It's challenging.  Better to be a healthy example than to listen to my daughter say things like, "oh, well, I'm so thirsty....I guess I can't get anything to drink though..." like a little martyr-in-training, rather than ask for help.

There are moving tubs everywhere full of oddities, and F came up with Sock Monkey that probably hadn't seen the light of day in almost 10 years (I recall my college boyfriend thought it creepy).  The foam was shot and he was dirrrrty.  After an overnight spa-soak in vinegar/borax/bit-o-bleach, he washed and dried just fine.  But with further inspection, the first born decided she might like to have him re-stuffed, and I happen to have some lovely stuffing on hand from a quilt shop going-out-of-business. She also asked that his mirror nose be tacked down somehow---funny coincidence that.  Then, newly firmly fluffed, with buttons reinforced and non-noddy nose, he went to bed with Little Girl and has been under her arm practically all day.  I'm proud, Sock Monkey turned out just how I wanted him to, he's the embodiment of heirloom.

Spit n' swim

My swimmin' Monkey has a habit of spitting when she emerges from a swim n' dive. Certainly a bit more difficult to catch her little arm and look slightly away to avoid a face full of PBBBB! when she bobs back up. Constant reminders for her to blow bubbles underwater to best avoid the spray---seems to think it's funny.

She enjoys trapping Porter-kitty in various places as well. Most recently after hearing muted repetitive kitty noises, we discovered him inside an end table...locked and barricaded with pillows. Porter has also been buckled into the resurrected high-chair, for check-ups with Dr. Miss Monkey and her early morning antics. One would think that after being trapped in her dress-up box for an inordinate amount of time one day, that cat would have learned his lesson. To his feline credit he is more than a little patient with her, and yet she is still surprised, feelings hurt, when he finally loses his kitty temper and unleashes on her. It's actually a very feline interaction, adult cat batting down that more rambunctious kitten when he/she gets out of hand.

The other spitter in the house really can't help it, as she's only just learning how to eat. Baby E has been a good sleeper when she's sleeping. Most of this first month she's been rather easy. Comparatively though, since I can barely remember any details from the Firstborn's iddy-biddy days, I'm at a loss. Some days baby girl is easy as pie, others however, are, well, not pie but more like a razor-filled cream puff.

A baby's cry is a special thing. It can make people truly crazy. I can take about 10 minutes of crying, if I'm fed and not too too tired. Getting on a bit longer though and my shoulders begin to tense, my teeth set on edge. A crying baby will 'cause me to be in the closet shrieking like a banshee that "I've not a gottdam thing to wear!" The Man swears she was awake when he moved her around. All I know is she was sleeping before he left. Then, finally in the car, my sweet big girl, gives me a hug as I'm buckling her in, "A hug solves everything, Mama."

Baby cries are insane-making for a reason, really causing in humans a reaction to take care of that baby! Makes perfect sense from a species survival standpoint. The thing is, when there's a tiny hedonistic creature crying in one's arms, it's hard not to take it personally. This also makes sense to me 'cause I'm the end-all be-all of existence for this little creature...and as the premiere care-taker it'll get pretty personal if I let it. But it's not personal, babies are non-discriminatory criers. They will scream their sweet cheeks blue for anyone within earshot.

Then there's the flip side, the iddy baby gurgle and coo combo. Tiny yawning stretches, sneezes, coughs, and E's ruthless hiccups that will take on a likeness to barking when really intense.

Oh, the baby love---and the big sister love. Miss F has been truly stellar in her adjustment, has even taken to skipping the diaper/training pants at night. Keeping her bed dry for several nights at a time. Way to go kiddo! Today she was "graduated" to the K-1 room at Mile Hi, a step I was ill prepared for. I kept asking The Man, "really? they said she was old enough? did she have any problems with it? did she enjoy it?"

They just keep growing. Makes it easy for me to keep in mind that soon enough Baby E won't want to sleep on me at all, and will barely stay in my lap wanting to follow big sister. I will remember to enjoy this sweet snugly person while I can. Oh, and by far the best feeling so far is having both of them curling up with me at the same time. I made TWO of them! How NEAT!

Swimmer Girls

For the past month and a half or so Miss Monkey has been a champ in swimming lessons. The first go 'round in the Guppies class, getting more comfortable in the water and learning basic things like bubble-blowing and breath control. I was pretty proud that she mastered these already and was recommended to move up to the Tadpole class. Her swim attempts are looking more and more like real strokes, big-arms and all. Then this past couple of classes we purchased some inexpensive goggles for her, and she's now almost totally diver-girl. She'll ask me to move to the "far" side of the shallow area in the pool so she can practice swimming/diving to me. She pops up every breath to check to see how close she is, but less so now with the goggles. "They have treytles on them!" Today I remember, that since I'm a swimmer, I have goggles too! So we spent some time hanging out underwater smiling at each other and blowing bubbles. What once was old is new again. :) At almost every opportunity she orchestrated our simultaneous bobbing so that she might see my face as she swims toward me in her tadpole-halting way. I had some real moments of child-like joy today in these 'submarine' moments. Oh how I miss the salt-water, one day we'll visit Baby Beach at Spreckelsville again, and enjoy the morning like we did when Little Girl was months-old. One day I'll get a lovely open water swim in the big beautiful ocean!

Point of pride in this swimming lesson experience: When I was small, 4(?), I was in a swim class. I don't remember wanting to be in the swim class. What I do remember is a terrible gripping fear that I wasn't good enough, I remember a massive pressure to please because I was the youngest in a Tadpole class of 5-6 year olds. Maybe my age-group class didn't make. I remember vomiting, or dry heaving, every morning before my lesson. I remember hating the smell of chlorine, the simple thought of swimming in a lap pool terrified me.

Much more recently I remember having panic attacks in the gym locker room before I got in the pool…A young man that noticed my anxiety and talked me down somewhat so I could swim…. Finally, I remember, after a month or so of triathlon swim training, standing in the shower realizing that the anxiety wasn't mine to begin with, that it was given to me, and I didn't need it anymore…I let it go. Sometimes that vague habitual memory of panic returns around the edges of my conscious, then I simply let it go again, confident in my abilities in the pool now.

I am so glad, that I didn't pass my anxiety to my daughter.

Alter the pattern, break the chain, change the legacy.

This morning.

Fiona crabbin' out of bed, zombie-walks to the kitchen, "Mama?" I answer with a query about what she'd like for breakfast. Get my leg hug, then she takes me by the hand over to the couch, "You need a cuddle sweetheart?"
"Yeah."
Okay.

Even if I did have plans this morning, this was a better way to start the day than any other.

Yogic Soundtrack

This morning as I was mid-practice of a short form Ashtanga, Fiona grabbed her tambourine, a mallet, and a maraca...my yoga soundtrack, direct feed from the universe special just for me. little moment.

Yesterday, a couple block walk to and from a pool in MJJ Crew neighborhood...someone (who shall remain nameless *ahem*) had the super-fantastic idea Little girl could use the scooter (a 3 wheel Radio Flyer) while friend-Jack used his bike. Fiona proceeded to make her way, slowly slowly slowly toward the pool...she banged her ankle...she banged her ankle again...Mercy dragged her a little while, I dragged her a little while---I say dragged because pull lends the notion that it was comfortable to bend partially over as a humpback might while handling the child-laden scooter. Anyway, we made it to the pool with little incident, thankfully. I was admittedly grumpy at the prospect of the scooter to begin with 'cause I could just see how it would play out....and I was already somewhat hungry.

The pool was great, I'm jealous that MJJ have a practical 25 yd lap pool + kiddie pool in their neighborhood, splendiferous with awnings, chaises, lifegaurds, showers, & lovely bathrooms. All it lacks is an ice cream and taco vendor---ooo, possible career opportunity for me?

So right as we've decide time is up, Fiona dumped a cup of water over a little girl's head, after which she had to apologize, ask if there was anything she could do---this mostly to the mother 'cause the one year old mainly was disturbed by the sudden-ness of it I bet. It was derned impossible to keep Fiona still long enough to attempt to teach her how to hold her breath & blow some face-in-the-water bubbles, let alone take pictures. After some tantrumming & potty breaks, we make it back to the bike/scooter parking area, donned PPE and began the journey back to MJJ house. What a journey it was.

After a decent headstart Fiona showed lots of promise on the scooter, pushing along with her right leg. Then the rest of the party quickly caught up and passed us, she again was somewhat frantic that we (read:she) would be left behind. Try as she might though she just couldn't scoot fast enough to catch up. It was really warm that day, and we were hungry. I'm proud of myself that I didn't lose my temper all the way back, remained encouraging and as positive as possible in the screaming face of Fiona's determination. She clipped her ankle several more times, each time she cried louder and longer. Eventually she just never stopped crying, pushing that scooter along CRYING, and knocking her ankle again, and CRYING, kept scooting...CRYING.

Mama: "Fiona you don't have to keep riding the scooter you can take a break."
Little Girl: "Noooo!" then the ankle again, and she's off scootin' and cryin'. Panic at being so far behind.
Mama: "Look they're waiting on us, they're just waaaay up there, it's okay."
Little Girl: crying.
Mama: at eye level "Fiona, you can stop if it hurts, it's OKAY. You learned how to scooter, that's awesome. You're really determined, that's great! Now you can stop if it hurts, okay?"
Little Girl: "Nooo, I wanna ride scooter!" sobbing.
and repeat dialogue, ALL THE WAY BACK TO PLACE OF ORIGIN.

Eventually, with about half a block to go, she did get off and walk a little ways while I carried the scooter, but immediately upon entering hearing/listening distance of Mercy & Jack & friends, she said she wanted to ride again and finished the trip in very tenacious style.
"My little endurance athlete," I said, "she wouldn't stop, she was totally determined to ride it all the way here...kept going even though it hurt."
To which my newest & dear friend Mercy replied, "GEE, Ada, I wonder where she gets that from?" *snerk*

Fairy Dust

This morning, on the deck, with the bag of potting soil...
A big creative mess! Little Girl apparently enjoys tossing dirt in the air, so as to ensure total coverage. When she decided to come inside, I had to funnel her straight to the bathroom for an early shower (unhappy) to get the finer dust from her scalp & hair. She had dirt down her back as if she'd suddenly grown a strip of dark downy fur.
Preschooler's fairy dust.

Couple of evenings ago, on the guest room/office futon, it was extraordinarily important that she put me to bed. Fiona did it thoroughly, complete with kisses on the forehead, the tucking in, removal of the hairpin, and a lengthy fairy tale story resplendent with a prince, Peter Pan, the Princess, the little Mermaid, the king, and "somesing happens...but then somesing didn't happen"....and a dragon.

I complete my first race of the season this past weekend. It was harder than I figured, I messed up my hydration & fueling (water n' food) pretty bad, got some heat stress, and cried 'cause I didn't hit my goal of a sub 2-hour race. I did see improvement with my bike pacing & especially swim pacing compared to my first sprint. Race Report here. After an insanely busy couple of weeks just before the race things have calmed down somewhat this week, inasmuch as one might say my life with Little Girl is "calm" as busy as we have become somehow.

Fiona started gymnastics again, in her third week today. Was visibly trembling with excitement when I told her she was going to get to attend again, could barely contain herself. Little friend Jack is in the same class, and while he sits there with some solemnity following instructions, Fiona is off bouncing about testing the young teachers' boundaries & limits with them trying to keep her on task. I think she's just so excited it's hard for her to keep on task!

The Cat Snores

Really, I mean he really snores. Some nights when Porter chooses to sleep at the foot of the bed, both Gary and I have been awakened by the soft persistent noise. Lay there awake a few moments, listening hard, discerning whether or not Little Girl is awake upstairs? oh, no, it's just the cat snoring.

Yesterday, a slightly stormy afternoon. Fiona wanted to sit outside, she took her crocheted throw and sat on the Tuffo on the deck out back. After a while I joined her, it drizzled a bit, pit-pats on the impermeable blanket backing. We brought up the big side huddling under the green stripes, listening for Tha 'Under. Once or twice thunder rumbled above us or nearby, Fiona, grey eyes wide, ears perked, "Tha 'Under! Tha 'Under, Mama!" she quiets again, listening with her whole being. She takes great care to ensure all my appendages under the blank-tent, asking me if I'm cozy. Little Moment.