It’s about time I acknowledged Miss Q’s sponsors.
No, I really made her. I don’t mean Gregory and I hired a gestational carrier like Nic and what’s-his-name, I mean those who’ve sponsored her since she became a human.
Dressed in such labels as Collette Dinnigan (can you believe my daughter wears one of the designer's jumpsuits to bed? I would be too scared to even walk into her store), Ralph Lauren (bit too gentrified me), Adidas, (for all the running Q does), Nike, (ditto) Country Road, and a little summer dress by Calvin Klein. No, I didn’t know he did children’s clothes either.
Sponsored by her 6 American girl cousins and many friends and family members who gave Miss Q so many clothes I don’t have to wash for weeks.
Sponsored by her 6 American girl cousins and many friends and family members who gave Miss Q so many clothes she never, ever runs out, even when we have four outfit changes a day.
Which means I wash all the time.
All the time.
A special mention goes out to Louise, who not only made her husband sand and re-paint their change table (Gregory and I figured we could just use the bed) but who also gave us three pairs of her daughter’s white baby stockings, fifteen years old but still in pristine condition.
Can you believe it?
They would have long ago been used to stake a tomato vine in our joint.
Thank you also, to those no longer procreating who, in the spirit of reduce, reuse, recycle, have passed on highchairs, seats, games, change tables, backpacks, swings, prams, musical instruments and more.
We look forward to continuing the chain of love.
And there lies my daughter, dressed in her designer wear, lying on a pre-loved lamb’s skin, next to a quilt made especially for her, a plethora of educational toys and instruments scattered about, and what does she do?
Picks up her feet and stuffs them in her mouth.
I guess it’s true what they say.
The best things in life really are free.