When we put our oldest daughter Ellen into the grass for the first time, she was about seven months old. The instant her bird legs hit the ground, she started crying and was only consoled by picking her up. Put her in the grass = cry. Pick her up = stop. It was an amusing on/off game we played at her expense.
Just yesterday I put Annie, nearly six months, in the grass for the first time. It was a warm enough day and there was plenty of uplifting sunshine, so I gave it a shot.
Not even a whimper. She played with curiosity and wonder, feeling the blades between her fingers. If this is any indication of days to come, I predict she'll be the kind of girl who doesn't mind a little mud on her shoes. Just like her mom.