I babysat for a couple of hours on Sunday for Mabel Watson Payne in her San Francisco apartment while the other grown-ups went out and did grown-up things. We quickly reverted to familiar and comfortable modes of amusement.
These baby activities are ambitious and ceaseless and no end of fun to watch. Self-consciousness is not yet even a cloud on the horizon.
The little janitor suit from Rome exceeds all expectations. It has a subtle waist treatment involving elastic inside a self-casing and this seems to be the secret of the exemplary fit.
The blue ribbon fragments were trimmed from the ones that will hold that new hat on. When I had clipped them off and was about to discard them, Mabel Watson Payne put in an urgent claim. I wondered if she could swallow two 6-inch pieces of grosgrain ribbon. Not if I kept my eyes on her mouth, I decided, and then after she lost interest I could discreetly dispose of them.