Georgie reaches out to touch one, and Macy practically lunges forward to intercept her hand.
“Did you learn nothing at the Westoff mansion? Maybe we should just admire them from a safe distance,” Macy suggests with the kind of forced cheer that suggests she’s already calculating replacement costs.
Apparently, Matilda sent Macy and Georgie a bill this morning.
Meanwhile, Hammie Mae has arrived with baby Matilda, who immediately demonstrates why she’s become the unofficial poster child for infant genius. The kid takes one look around the room and says, clear as day, “Pretty lights make everything sparkle!”
Emmie gasps and looks my way.Did that baby just form a complete sentence with descriptive language?Her eyes widen as she shoots the thought my way, along with what feels like a surge of parental panic.
“Isn’t she remarkable?” Hammie Mae says with the kind of pride that’s probably warranted when your six-month-old speaks like a tiny philosopher. “She’s been commenting on architecture all day.”
Commenting on architecture?
I look down at Ella, who’s currently fascinated by her own hand and making happy gurgling noises that sound suspiciously like she’s mocking the entire situation.
“Say something brilliant,” I whisper her way. “Anything. EvenMamawould be good right now.”
Ella responds by blowing a spit bubble and giggling like she’s just pulled off the greatest practicaljoke in baby history, which is adorable but not exactly going to win any infant genius competitions nor will it get me invited to Mensa meetings.
Emmie is apparently having similar luck with Elliot, who’s chosen this moment to practice his new skill of grabbing anything within reach and trying to eat it, including Emmie’s sleeve, a stray piece of tinsel, and what appears to be his own foot.
“Maybe we could get some photos!” Cordelia announces suddenly, clapping her hands together like she’s just had the most brilliant idea since someone invented chocolate. “I have a professional photographer here to document our charity foundation’s Christmas fundraising efforts. It would be wonderful to include all these beautiful families!”
Of course, she has a professional photographer. Because apparently, casual family photos are for people who don’t own their own charity foundations and small countries.
A man with an expensive-looking camera appears like he’s been waiting in the wings for this exact moment, probably hiding behind a Christmas tree with the patience of a wildlife photographer stalking rare birds, and suddenly we’re being herded toward what appears to be a professionally lit Christmas display that probably took a team of decorators three days to perfect.
“Now, let’s arrange everyone beautifully,” Cordelia says, positioning people with the efficiency of a socialite who knows how to identify everyone’s good side. “Mothers with babies in front, everyone else arranged by height, and let’s make sure we can see the Goldleaf Foundation banner in the background!”
It’s almost as if she’s using us as props for her charity publicity.Buffy nods my way with the thought, even though she’s smiling for the camera like the rest of us.
The photographer starts clicking away, but almost immediately it becomes clear that professional photography and unpredictable babies are not a match made in heaven. Every time hegets everyone positioned and smiling, one of the babies decides to have an opinion about the whole situation.
First, Elliot starts crying because the camera flashes. Then Ella decides this is the perfect moment to have a diaper situation that requires immediate attention. Meanwhile, baby Matilda continues to demonstrate her far-too-evolved development by providing running commentary on the photography process.
“The lighting is too bright,” she says in her tiny but remarkably clear voice. “It creates bad shadows.”
Did a six-month-old just critique professional photography?Emmie thinks as she looks my way, and I can practically feel her maternal confidence crumbling.
“My, my…. She’s very observant,” Jennilee says sweetly, appearing beside us with her characteristic Southern charm. “Bless her heart, she’s just trying to be helpful!”
I have to admit, Jennilee’s been nothing but delightful all day. She’s been helping wrangle babies, offering to hold coats, and generally being the kind of person who makes social events run more smoothly just by being present.
The photographer tries again, but baby Matilda decides to climb out of Hammie Mae’s arms to investigate the camera equipment.
“Camera makes pretty pictures!” she announces, reaching toward the lens with scientific determination.
“She’s very curious,” Cordelia points out with one eyebrow hiked as if she’s contemplating this on many levels. Probably calculating the publicity value of having a genius baby in her charity photos.
Soon enough, the photographic torment is over, and that’s when Georgie makes her move toward what appears to be a particularly expensive ornament display.
“These are just stunning!” she announces, reaching out to examine a crystal snowflake that looks like it belongs in a jewelry store, not in a home. She has trulyforgotten all about the crystal ornament fiasco at the Westoffs’. “The craftsmanship is incredible! Look at the way the light catches?—”
“Georgie, no!” Macy hisses, but it’s too late.
The ornament slips from Georgie’s grasp, hits the marble floor, and shatters into approximately seventeen hundred pieces of very expensive crystal confetti.
I’m sensing a very expensive pattern here.
