I'm one of the few who moved away (all of the the 5.3 miles between my folks' house and Wake Forest University) freshman year of college and never really came home again. I think I can count on both hands the number of nights that I have spent there in the last ten years. So, to find myself back at my old homestead, with my own child in tow, was sort of a strange experience. (Although, we were most grateful to have a place to stay while our house was under construction!) Clara settled right in and had a blast. And I cannot tell you how deep my joy was to watch her playing in my house with my toys. It wasn't that long ago that we cleaned out my old room and I remember saying, "Should we save these things? Just in case I have a baby girl some day?" Boy oh boy am I glad we did. I didn't remember to snap any pictures of it until the last day we were there, so these are all from one day. But it's a fairly typical day of our three weeks there.
And played with my old toys (some of which were Sweet Mama and Big Daddy's, too.)
She pushed my baby doll stroller around (this is what I learned to walk behind back in the Spring of '82):
And rode on Uncle Trey's "Rawhide" (again, please - pay no mind to current safety regulations. This thing is a death trap. A very entertaining death trap.)
She cooked in my play kitchen...
And played in my cul-de-sac, with my sweet mama (her Sweet Mama, capitals).
She fed my baby dolls, while they sat in the old metal highchair that was first Sweet Mama's (circa 1950something) and then mine as well....
And put babies and Ernies to sleep in the cradle/crib that was Sweet Mama's, too.
She played with my old blocks...
And worked my old puzzles....
And stood her teeny little feetsies on my old wooden stool.
She sat in my rocking chair. And read my books.
And it was good. Very very good.
Thanks be to God.
P.S. Another perk of living there for three weeks was that we had the chance for date night, no sitter required! Win!