Intoxicating Baby Scalp

Seriously?  Is there any better smell that the head of a tiny baby?  I say no.  I find myself sniffing Brooklyn's head over and over, letting it fill up my senses, eyes closed in bliss.  I want to bottle it up, saved for days when she's over-hair sprayed, yelling "I hate you," or the tween years when she's greaserrific and not into washing her hair.

Brooklyn participated in a rite of passage two weekends ago--she visited the Ranch.  Site of girls' weekends full of margaritas, game playing, relaxation and porch sitting.  It was the first time in 14 years that we have taken a child with us for a girls' weekend.  I have to say, it went surprisingly well.  Being a monumental moment, it was captured via iPhone pictures, for isn't that how all big moments are captured?

Breakfast sudoku time with Kathy.  Ranch staple of sitting at the banquette.

Chilling on the floor, pulling her head up to check out mommy.

Turns out that Big Sam loves baby heads, too.

Just one more sniff!

Sunset on the Beer Blind.  Don't worry, no beer was consumed by small people.

As always, leaving the Ranch was difficult, but made more enticing by going back to my sweet toddler boy.  He insisted on sending me a video when he was with Glammy & Poppy.  And as is typical in toddler-world, I came back to my sweet boy saying "Gwammy" instead of "Mammy" and asking "why" incessantly instead of the continual "what for?"