...our little twinkletoes wearing a tutu (on her mamma's last day of being thirty-four).
There's no stopping her from smiling. It's just what she does. Unless I make her wait 5 seconds too long before feeding her. Then she's not smiling. She's not crying very loudly either (she has laryngitis), but she's not smiling.
I try not to make her wait. I'd rather see her smile.
She loves being on her back, kicking her feet up, and rubbing her toes together.
(Shot while looking into a mirror. I'd like to think that I'm cool with my torn up jeans, but really these are just old jeans. Really old. Twenty years old. Thank you, Gap, for making jeans that last forever.)
Big Sister Twinkletoes wanted to get in on the tutu action. The numbering of tutus in our house is staggering, really. And, yet, there's always room for more.
My computer is full of imperfect, out-of-focus baby photos that I don't want to delete because they still capture an expression I love. The above photos fit into that category. Not in focus, but worth keeping anyway!
There's just something about a baby in a tutu that melts my heart. And, let's be honest, this little twenty-week old cutie pie melts my heart every day regardless of her attire.
My favorite shot?
Seriously. She kills me with her cuteness.
The tutu of the photoshoot: Amazingly enough, this tutu has managed to survive many years of wear. I made it when Jules was eight months old, and here it is for Addie, all these many moons later. Once she starts sitting up on her own, I think I'll need to make Addie her own tutu. And maybe another one for me. Because we love tutus, yes we do.