Even at her tender and auspicious age of twenty-three months old, I still possess a certain maudlin air when I experience a "first" with my daughter.
Cabin fever has gotten the best of us this Christmas break, and the Polar Vortex had canceled our school earlier this week. To resist the temptation of ripping out my hair - piece by piece - I endeavored to make the day go as quickly as possible using distraction after distraction to pass the time. It's not my proudest day as a parent, but at just shy of 39 weeks pregnant my patience and endurance were not quite as elevated as they once were.
First on the list for the princess, painting her nails. I have no idea why it has taken us this long to experience this necessary pampering at the hands of her mother, but regardless, it was a milestone yet to be checked off on her ubiquitous bucket list (of my own creation, of course). She did not stop admiring them, showing them off, and smiling at them for the rest of the day.
Second, I was finally able to secure her hair in a braid. It has been long enough to do so for quite some time, but the wrangling of an expressive and exuberant toddler has proven to be one of my failings in this life and I had not been able to contain her long enough to complete the hair adornment.
Two precious, overtly feminine exploits secured for posterity in my mind - and on these here inter-webs.