Araminta recently turned . . . a baker’s dozen.
Please don’t call her a :::::whispering:::: teenager. At least not to her face. She is insisting that she is NOT the . . . you know, “t word”.
She was our smallest baby. It was a strange labor, a day and night of real labor that then stopped and started up, but oddly, the next afternoon. The midwife decided to go shopping. And then Araminta decided to be born, and quickly. Without the midwife. And with the cord twice around her neck. I don’t think the Patriarch is quite over that one yet, although he did beautifully.
She was a petite, cheery little baby and toddler even with the immune condition which began manifesting itself when she was about a year old. I’ll spare you the pictures.
Now she handles all of it with grace. It’s not my business to share her struggles on my blog; if she wants to talk about it when she’s grown, that’s her business. On the public-share side, she and Lucinda handle their own food. It keeps food prep separate, and with the limited nature of their ingredients, it’s a fairly straightforward process. She does play with combinations and tastes, more and more as she grows older. She and Lucinda have been good for avocado for some time, for example, but just recently they have been experimenting with different guacamoles.
She loves to draw, loves to read, and creates fashion for her dolls. She makes a lovely latte when mama comes in bedraggled from early morning milking.
There is a tradition we have for our children’s 13th birthdays that we started with the eldest. We can’t really go out to eat as a family due to the severity of our little guys’ allergies. So on their 13th birthday, the celebrator chooses a “fancy” restaurant and goes out with a parent. Remembering Gareth’s 13th still makes me hungry! It made us all pretty sad that we couldn’t think of a way to make that happen for Araminta. Even if we found an item that she could eat at a restaurant, cross-contamination issues just rule that out. So she chose to go clothes shopping instead, and wanted it to be an all-sisters event. It was a good time, and we happened upon a sale, so she was able to give her wardrobe a boost.
Fashion statements that they decided not to adopt
We all are so grateful that she is part of our family. Here’s to a fine baker’s dozen and many, uhm, more. Or something.