Also featured in the above photo is Henry’s half-eaten apple from earlier today. I stopped him from starting on a new apple since he hadn’t finished this one, so he spent five minutes chasing Rose around the house trying to persuade her that the half-eaten apple had been hers all along, but she wasn’t buying it.
Henry pulls off the dried-blood-crumbs-under-the-nose look with panache.
“Your mother doesn’t give you marshmallows for lunch? Perhaps you’re not batting your long eyelashes persuasively enough. Or your mother is getting too much sleep.”
“Don’t all newborns get to play with handbells? I’m hoping next time Henry will give me a water gun, a fire truck, or maybe a Transformer. And yes, I’ve only got one shoulder strap on my swing — I call it my Flashdance Baby look.”