I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

from Mary Oliver's "The Summer Day"

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Can you tell they're related?

I've been looking through some of Will's baby pictures and comparing them to Laura's. And while they maybe don't look quite as similar as I had thought, there are certainly some similarities. I think the thing that they both share is that they both look like little adults. Some babies just look like babies, all chub and rolls and dimples. But mine look like shrunken old men and women who may or may not exist in a constant state of unhappiness. (And I mean that as lovingly as possible.)


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Will, at around 3 weeks old. It's the scowl that kills me.



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And Laura, on the day we brought her home from the hospital, at about all of 36 hours old. The area between their eyes is the same. This is also one of a handful of times in her first few weeks of life that she allowed a pacifier to be within her line of sight, much less in her mouth.

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