double bubble, baby

Recently I was going through my sister's file of photographs and I found one of the two of us with mom and dad and Aunt B at the ice cream parlor. The one that grandpa designed with the twirling double ice cream cone on the outside. The picture was taken after a dance recital. We're wearing matching blue and white striped leotards with blue skirts. We both have ice cream smeared across our faces and pink ballet shoes on our feet.

Before the time when all I would order was mint chocolate chip, I would get bubble gum ice cream, the kind that had pieces of bubble gum mixed in. My sister liked it, too. I liked to save all the bubble gum on a napkin and count it at the end. My sister would try and do the same, but usually aborted mission halfway through, preferring the double-bubble method: eating bubble gum ice cream while chewing a big wad of bubble gum. That's how she's always been--all bubble gum. She takes life in one big gulp. She dives in head-first with a cheek full of pink bubble gum. She jumps off the highest platform at the pool. Skis the double black diamonds. Rides the fastest roller coaster in the park.

Now my sister's got this beautiful baby girl. When she arrived in the world, she was a bit blue because she wasn't quite ready to breathe. I watched my sister's face, pink with exhaustion, grow concerned while the nurses tended to her new little one. We held our breath as we waited for Naomi to take her first taste of air from this side of life. Today she's all bows and dainty hands and high pitched squeals when she smiles. Her cheeks get rosy after she's eaten, one of my Dad's favorite things about her (as if he can choose.) The other night at dinner I watched my sister put a spoonful of ice cream to Baby Naomi's lips. She's not quite sure how she takes her ice cream yet. But double-bubble or one piece at a time, she's got one smart mama to show her the ropes.