Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Letters to Dannica: The Last of Our Outings (Month 7)



I never would have thought that the last few outings we had in the past weeks—visiting Google’s lawn sculptures, going to the train show at the fairgrounds, attending a friend’s red egg party, and touring Mommy’s and Daddy’s alma mater—would be our last taste of freedom for a while.

Visiting Google's Lawn Sculptures

Train Show at the Fairgrounds

Red Egg Party

Visiting Mommy's & Daddy's Alma Mater


You were born in what is turning out to be a historic year, with a COVID19 pandemic sweeping through the world, and with a recent county mandate for families to “shelter in place,” essentially being locked down. The economy is plummeting, schools have closed, and many people are told to work from home, with others losing their jobs entirely. 

Amidst all this, you are continuing to grow, picking up an incredible amount of skills in the past month. You are cutting two bottom front teeth and are chewing everything you could get your hands on, with your favorite being Daddy’s meaty hands.



You roll over like a pro and can sit up straight all by yourself.



You can now crawl forward a little better instead of your backward scooch. You reach out your hands to your choice person when you want to be picked up. You show a huge interest in wanting to pull up to standing, and can do it with a little assistance from us. Your favorite purées so far are pumpkin and pear. Luc makes you laugh a lot, but in true little sister fashion, you are starting to annoy him by getting your hands on all his favorite books and toys that he’d rather keep to himself.

It feels like the world is on fire, with people rushing about, scared, anxious, panic-shopping, hoarding food and supplies.

Grocery Shopping During the COVID-19 Pandemic - Empty Shelves

 They now pass each other on the streets and stay a distance away; the hustling and bustling, traffic-congested Bay Area, hub of the Silicon Valley, has largely become a ghost town with its residents hunkering down. It feels uncertain and surreal, but you are too young to sense and know any of this. You keep doing you, growing along, gifting us freely with smiles and baby chuckles.




You remind me of what a treasure children are, how much joy and hope they give us, at a time like this. And despite the world being on fire, it feels right—it still feels like it will be okay—with you in it.

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