August 24, 2009
I visited Kevin and Linda and little baby Sophie this weekend, and we went to get frozen yogurt. After parking in the far reaches of the parking lot in a space that was physically smaller than Kevin’s car (curb-tire interactions were involved), we walked to the mall and got some yogurt.
Sophie had to be changed first (I understand this is a common occurrence), and she did not wish to be changed. Sure, at some level she did. She was crying at the discomfort of it. But when it came to the actual changing process: no. But Kevin outweighs her by an order of magnitude, and was eventually able to impose his will upon her in diaper form. And then she was back into her carseat, which melded with her stroller, but was still fussy, though sunshades were raised and lowered in a variety of fashions.
Linda, who was pushing the stroller, started weaving from side to side, snaking her way down the row of cars, and Sophie quieted.
“If I go in a straight line,” she explained, “Sophie will cry again.”
And I understood. “Babies hate efficiency,” I said.
And we laughed, and continued happily on our way, because what better way to spend a hot August afternoon than visiting old friends (and a new one), soaking up the heat, and meandering in the general direction of frozen dessert.