This is an important milestone towards improving my (because, yes, this is about me) somewhat lukewarm relationship with babies and young children.
Strangers' kids are wildcards; there's no way to know what's going on with them. They might be fine, they might be a mess.
My new niece is going to be awesome.
A couple weeks after Henriette Josephine was born, Ellen and I made our first trip down to Iowa City for a meet and greet. Like any self-respecting mid-westerners, we brought a casserole and dessert.
An aside: Recently, I came across this handwritten recipe of my grandma's. I love seeing my grandparents' handwriting, so I felt a lot of warm, cozy feelings, and decided to help this Chicken Rice Bake live through the generations.
But then it was all fine and I couldn't hold her enough. Henriette even came to a brewery, and to brunch, and was the most chill person in the group.
Then we had to go. Sadness!!! Bye for now, Henriette!!! You are the best and we LOOOOOVE you!!!
The only real blight on the whole time was, unfortunately, the Chicken Rice Bake. You may have noticed it calls for cream of celery/mushroom/chicken, and I learned cream of anything is pretty gross. (Non-mid westerners: tread carefully with any less than supportive comments of our strong, proud tradition of church lady potluck casseroles.) There's a chance my grandma wrote out this recipe for someone she didn't like that much.