When I was pregnant with my first daughter, my mother (whom we call GiGi) was so happy (and relieved) she was finally going to be a grandmother that she wanted to just buy us everything we could possibly ever need for our little baby’s nursery. And we pretty much let her. Well, at least we let her buy us things like the car seat, the stroller, the crib, a layette. You get the picture. We might have let her get a little carried away. But my mother tends to get overly excited by big life-altering events. When I got engaged, my mother was also so overjoyed (and again, relieved) that she basically sent me into my married life with a trousseau. Seriously. Who even uses that word anymore? Does anyone even know what it is? Anyway, my first pregnancy was two years ago, and a lifetime ago, and it seemed OK at the time. With this pregnancy, she again wanted to do the same, but my husband and I decided we are in a different place now and it wouldn’t be right. But she insisted on doing something. So, after some careful thought, I came up with the idea of buying our new baby art. Some kind of work of art – something special that came from the heart. If you knew my mother at all, you would so understand why this made sense. We’ve often referred to her as the “culture grandma.” She’s been planning my daughter’s first trip to Paris since she was born. She bought her crayons and sketch paper long before we thought it was a possibility that Sweet Pea could grip an object than thin in her hand. So it just made sense.

Well, today the first piece of art for Coco’s collection arrived, and as always, my mother, who does everything up to the umpteenth degree, has managed to hit the nail on the head. It’s a beautiful old print of a little girl on a chair in a meadow and she’s reading a book (my favorite past-time) and surrounded by dogs (my favorite creatures) and it has a beautiful caption about patience and it’s so stunningly framed and breathtaking and I can’t believe how lucky my little girls are to have such a cool grandmother.

And my oldest daughter’s first trip to Paris? I’m kind of hoping I’ll get to tag along.