rosy cheeks and dreams of the big red barn....

snuggle buddies

Friday Isabelle woke up with some rosy warm cheeks so in fear of something horrible brewing we took it easy.  Naps all around, lots of reading, cuddling (with Sid), and popcorn on the couch.  And after a tired momma got tired of reading books to Isabelle, she decided she could "read" them to herself.  And she did!  She practically knew every word to "Any Room For Me?" - the classic story of the old man losing his mitten in the woods which then becomes occupied by the mouse, frog, hare, fox, wild boar, and huge bear (and yes i have memorized this book too...).  I just love to hear the inflection of her voice when she reads "of course, come in" - just like mom and dad.

our favorite book lately

Fortunately the rosy warm cheeks were gone by the evening and she even perked up a little and did a few laps around the house in celebration of burrito night.  Saturday we decided it was hay ride weather and in true New England fashion knew it wouldn't be too hard to find one within a half an hour.  We decided to head over to Woodstock, VT to Billings farm, a small farm over 138 years old with a working dairy heard, draft horses, oxen, and a farm museum. They have the cutest doe eyed jersey cows and even had a hand full of calves that I lovingly let suck on my fingers (mommy instincts kicking in).

our wagon ride in waiting, pulled by two huge percherons

isabelle loving the bumps and bouncing of the horse drawn wagon

And at some point I must have scarred isabelle.  Likely when she was about 9 months old and in a bouncy seat in the middle of a cold barn while I chased after my flock of research sheep for my master's project or maybe when she was 3 months old and I took breaks from dissecting lamb intestine to breast feed.  She was surrounded by livestock as a baby and then at some point she became deathly afraid of the possible moo or baa that might emerge from the ruminant belly.  She refuses to get up close and personal with livestock and I don't know if this child is actually mine sometimes.  Yesterday as we walked through the dairy barn she clings, shuts her eyes, and buries herself into her dad's shoulder and only sneaks a quick peak at the calves.  I'm sure it is just a phase, just not a phase I quite expected from my child.  Me, who secretly (or not so secretly), wants desperately to someday live in Margret Wise Brown's "Big Red Barn"...

about as close as isabelle will get to the cows...