This is one of my all time favorite polaroids of Mabel. In it she is just a little over one month old and is trying to decide whether to squawk about having been put down on her tummy--something she was not then, and still is not now, a huge fan of (though these days her enjoyment of it can sometimes extend into a period of minutes, rather than seconds as was the case back when this photo was taken). I love the light, here, and her little white onesie and bare limbs. When I look at pictures, now, from this newborn era--or see tiny new babies out on the street, with their heads the size of oranges and their floppy limps and heavy small bodies like sacks of sand--I feel a rush of nostalgia for the Mabel that was. These days she is an elder statesman baby: she sits up, she eats things like green bean puree and mashed sweet potato, she bangs on a pot with a wooden spoon. Next week, we think, she might call for a pizza. Hard to believe it only takes a few months to start feeling that ultimate cliche of parenthood: They grow up so fast! And as amazed and proud and infatuated as I always do feel at every new stage in her existence, the old lying-like-a-lump-on-the-floor phase will always hold a special place in my heart and memory.
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