Daredevil Baby

 

Isadora and I went to the playground today. She's developed a habit of always starting on the swing, and then slowly branching out into the more adventurous features of the play area. Today, it was swinging for nearly a half an hour. Nancy and I have begun to refer to her "swing trance." She always starts off looking like she's having fun, but after a while it looks more like she's been drugged. I find this unnerving, so I try to coax her into doing something else. "Would you like to try the slide?" I say. "More swing," she says in a monotone, staring vacantly out at the world.

Today she eventually did try the slide, but even more exciting was that she tried the red tube slide (as you can see in the picture), something she has resisted for weeks. But perhaps the most amazing thing was what happened when she asked me to take her up to the top of the biggest slide of all, one of those towering swirly slides. When I was a kid, I found these things terrifying, because I always bumped my head going down them. Isadora and I have gone down this one together several times, and even now I still get a little nervous.

So we get to the top of the big swirly slide, and I put Isadora on my lap, and she says, "Izza try. Izza try!" I asked her if she meant that she wanted to go down by herself, and she indicated that yes, indeed she did. Feeling a little nervous, I positioned her, belly down, and slowly lowered her by the arms. "Are you ready?" I asked. She was. So I let go, and she swirled out of sight.

Since I couldn't slide after her, for fear of running into her, I had to high-tail it back down the stairs to see what had happened. I half-feared I would hear her crying before I saw her. But when I got to the bottom of the slide, she was just lying there, still on her stomach. She lifted her head to look at me and her face was plastered with sand pebbles.

"Was that fun or scary?" I asked as I picked her up. "Scary," she said. Then, after a moment’s pause, she added, "More!" 

America's Next Top Baby

 

Is it just me, or does this picture look like a fashion shot in which Isadora was instructed to "sell the duck"? I can imagine the photographer saying, "Okay, some kid across the room is trying to get your attention. Try to look casually in that direction, like you're not sure you care what this kid wants from you. And hold up the duck!" 

Hi, Rock!

 

Okay, except for the fact that you can see the veins in her forehead, which is kind of gross, isn't this a beautiful picture? I feel like it should be the album cover for some sunshiney seventies hippy rock group.

I took this picture weeks ago, but it serves as a nice backdrop for something that happened today. Isadora and I were hanging out, watching ants. We were talking about what they might be doing. Were the ants walking? Were they running? Were they going to school? Were they going to work? And so on.

While we were doing this, Isadora was holding a rock. And out of nowhere, she lifts up the rock and says, "Hi, rock." Not a big deal. But then, in a really high-pitched voice (not coincidentally, the same Elmo-esque voice I for use whenever I assume the role of some speaking stuffed animal), she says, "Hi, Isadora!" The rock was talking back to her! It was really cute, but it also had a kinda creepy redrumy undertone to it. I mean, a rock was talking to her. Is she crazy?

In other cute-news, near the end of our sojourn with the ants, Isadora took it upon herself to shout, "Go work, ants!" She's so bossy. 

Blogging Again

 

So, it's been a while since I kept a blog, mainly because as soon as Nancy went back to work (about a year and a half ago), I had no time left to think. But Nancy has quit her job. She's now barefoot and pregnant. I finally have what I've always wanted: A HOUSEWIFE! So it's time I tossed back a few beers and started keeping a blog again.

The other reason I wanted to start keeping a blog is that when Nancy takes a bunch of pictures of Isadora, she never chooses to post the ones I like best. This one for instance. Okay, so Isadora looks a little bit like she's in pain. But it's an adorable kind of pain, don't you think? I have this picture as the background on my computer right now, and whenever I look at it, I think she's trying to say to me, "Come on Dad, can't you squeeze out one more pint of lifeblood for me to live on? I mean, you're only going to be alive for another fifty years or so, whereas I'll probably live another hundred."

Or something like that.

Thanks for reading.