This morning I decided Norah and I would take a walk to the coffee shop. This is a big deal, because she’s only 5 weeks old and we’ve never gone anywhere without Candyce. After receiving authorization from a drowsy Candyce, I lifted Norah out of her bassinet and lowered her into the hammock/sling on my chest. We walked out the door into the cool morning air. She was asleep before I passed the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
Twenty minutes later, I was visiting with the Sunday morning hot rod club from my neighborhood. They sat beneath the patio umbrellas sipping coffee and admiring their fleet of cool cars had filled the parking lot: several ’32 Fords, a sedan delivery, and a vintage Vette. We debated the merits of the rumor that Chrysler might merge with General Motors and the wily ways of Cerberus Capital Management.
Once inside, I sipped espresso and visited with neighbors while Norah snored. I flipped through the pages of the Wall Street Journal in between compliments from strangers: Your baby is so beautiful! She’s so little! She’s so precious! I have not received this much attention since I was as B-list celebrity in the year 2000.
By the time we walked back through the front door of our home, Norah and I had been gone for an hour-and-a-half. I never knew you could have so much fun doing something as simple as spending a Sunday morning with your daughter.