Hoppy Easter

I won't type much. The pictures speak for themselves. This Easter, we loaded up the Jeep and headed down to Orange Beach, Ala., to Ace's mom's house for Easter baskets, beach trips, and shopping. In the old days, we'd throw a few things in one bag an hour or so before we left and hotfoot it down the road.

No more. You'd have thought we were moving, not spending three days at grandma's.

When we arrived at 11 p.m. Thursday, Ty had Billy's first Easter basket laid out, with clothes, swim trunks, and funny toys. She also had beer and pizza for us. She knows what we like. She was so happy to see her littlest boy:


Unlike last Easter weekend, during which we froze, it was actually warm enough to go to the beach. Billy loved it.


He looked around, took it all in, felt the sand in his fingers, and then promptly started to eat it. Of course. He had sandy poop for two days.


Poor Billy inherited his mom's fair skin instead of his grandmother's and father's lovely Cherokee olive tones. So I was terrified he would burn. I slathered every inch of him in 60 SPF and kept him under an umbrella most of the time. The result? Not even a pinkish glow. Whew.

Check out the You Tube channel soon--against my fears of the post-baby body hitting the internet, I'll be posting a video of his first touch of the ocean, too. He liked it. I was cold.

He actually looks more like me--the Moore side--every day. But his body, ears, and cheeks are still totally Ace.


Here, he models an Atkins family heirloom. Ace wore this blue suit on his first Easter 37 years ago. All of Ace's nephews have worn it as well. Although Billy isn't really a lace or pastel fella, he looks kind of perfect in it, don't you think?


We're pretty proud.

Ace's book tour starts next weekend at the Arkansas Literary Festival. Then Birmingham, then home for a couple of days, then Phoenix, Houston, a week-long Florida leg, then Montgomery. Then home a week, then New Orleans. If you're in those areas, contact me for details and try to stop by.

As he gets older, I'm mulling new childcare solutions. What did you do? Have any insights to share?

You People Are Okay

The older he gets, the more Billy likes us.

A new mom friend and I were discussing this the other day. Her two-month-old daughter spent the first few weeks crying a lot, but she's now settled down into a pretty content little dear. She said it was almost like her daughter didn't quite trust her at first, and has now decided her parents ain't half bad.

Billy's seven months old as of this past weekend, and he can now reach for us, hug us, kiss us (well, bite the face, which he thinks is a kiss), and he laughs at what we do.



He laughs at us and dances and likes to play. He likes our stupid songs. I think he's always liked our stupid songs, but it seems like something more now--like he understands just how stupid they are. When he was teeny, he needed us, but now, he really wants us. We're buddies.



He smiles a lot.

I know that this just a developmental thing, that he wasn't waiting to trust us before he turned on the charm--he just wasn't capable before. Still, it sure is nice to feel the love back from the little guy.


Superbaby update--he stands up all the time and can crawl faster than lightning. He's beginning to let go of the tables, chairs, crib, etc. He'll be walking by eight months, no doubt.

He had his first visit with our new Oxford pediatrician this week, and I was holding him in my lap as the doctor came in. The doctor asked, "Is he turning over yet?" and I started laughing. Let's just say I am becoming a master of the standing diaper change.

I hope you all don't mind that this blog is Billy, Billy, Billy. But quite frankly, that's why I started it. Ace and I are simply not that interesting.

Well, maybe Ace is: the new book tour starts April 10 (yes, my birthday). I'll post dates and locations as we get them.