Baby Legs: A Photo Essay

There are many things I won’t miss about this first year of parenthood. Obviously, the lack of sleep. Acid reflux. RSV. Trimming 30 microscopic fingernails each week. The time Bran somehow pooped on his own shoulders.

But there is far more that I will miss dearly. Finn’s never-ending giggle. The euphoric shriek Jem unleashes when he gets really excited about life. Bran’s beautiful curls and simian grunts. And the baby legs. Sometimes I think that if I had just given birth to six baby legs I would be equally proud. I love the Flintstone feet, the curdled thighs and the toes that are always pointed, like an elephant ballerina.

I will miss Legs 1.0 when they grow up and become Legs 2.0—scabby, hairy and inescapably bowed. So here’s a photo essay I’m either calling, “Wuthering Thighs,” “Thighs and Prejudice” or “Thighs of the d’Urbervilles.”

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