I’ve posted this photo before, but I usually crop it. The lady in the gorgeous green and gold dashiki is Cheryl, who took care of Bean and also my grandmother.

This was Cheryl’s wedding day. My mom made her dress. She didn’t use a pattern. She claims that the dress just sort of sprung organically out of the fabric, which sounds kind of wacky, but she’s not kidding. I was there. She has a gift for sewing.

The other day Jennifer sent me a DM that said, 

Dreamt about you last night. Lots going on. Grandma called you “Stewie”.

It’s like she knows my secrets. 

I’ve mentioned before that I was kind of appalled when Bean was born and hardly had any hair. When I was a newborn I looked like I was wearing Dick Clark’s wig. Bean’s father is one of the few people I know who actually has more hair than I do. Those two facts plus a raging case of pregnancy heartburn led me to expect a baby with lots of hair. 

Here, he’s a bit more than a year old and is finally started to grow his mane. Also, Cheryl, who I adore, and whose idea it was to snap this photo. 

Another photo from my 30th birthday. Smiling. And I’m not getting ready to toss baby Bean across the verandah, it just looks like that. 

At my 30th birthday party. 2007 was a good year. 

Also, Bean is wearing my brother’s t-shirt from the 1979 Juegos Panamericanos. 

Bean was about nine months old the time we traveled - just the two of us - from Grenada to New York and back. I took this photo right before we boarded our return flight. 

At an obscenely early hour of the morning, we found ourselves waiting at a gate at Kennedy Airport. In this photo he’s wearing pajamas with feet under his overalls. I’d already taken off his fleece vest, and each leg of the trip I removed another article of clothing. His dad picked us up at Point Salines, and as soon as we got in the car I stripped off Bean’s onesie, and his transformation back into a diaper-only Caribbean baby was complete. 

And, oh yeah. I let him play on the skeezy carpeted floor in the airport. Why? Because getting dirty is nature’s vaccination. Also, I pick my battles. 

Another favorite. Bean learning to eat with a spoon. 

I still can’t believe he was born with so little hair. He’s like nine months old here and still kind of bald. You guys know I look like Aslan and you see his father. I don’t get it. But, hey. Genetics are weird. 

Bean and his Daddy: Bathing Buddies Edition