Ballard Of A Sunday Afternoon

The kid's big achievements of the week have been lifting up so she's standing flat on her feet and hands (is standing next?) and deftly honing her mood swings. The former is self-explanatory, right? So: The latter.

NJ has been a giggling, smiling, delightful delight for the past several days. Except when she's been a screaming, crying feral creature. Ever since we returned from Oregon she's done a lot of wailing to get attention. Lately, I haven't been clued in to the fact that her nap is over by the sweet, lilting sounds of her jibber-jabber over the monitor, as per usual; it's been zero-to-sixty crying. Same when we put her down -- crying, not talking. And as often as not, the middle of her nap has been punctuated by a short wailing burst. Nothing is really wrong, of course, but she's really perfecting her crying-as-attention-getting skills.

Otherwise, she's been a dream. Her latest move is to look at a toy, hold it up to me or The Wife, and flash a big, toothy, "I love this thing!" grin. ("Toothy" meaning "two tooth nubbins.") It's pretty cute. Also pretty cute: stream-of-consciousness jabbering that would make James Joyce proud. No longer does it come simply in spurts -- now she talks in sentences, only with words that make no sense (to me, at least). "Baden," "daden," "doy" and "ooooyyeeee," which is something of a wistful sigh, are her favorites. In her mind, they are probably all swear words directed at me.

Today was a big day for NJ. We went to a toy store to buy some new toys, toys that she can't have for another week when we fly to New England. Hopefully, brand new things to play with on the airplane will keep her more happily occupied than the tired old things she's currently got strewn all over the house. It'll buy me some time before I have to invoke the It's My Turn rule.

NJ with an anonymous toy store patron.

After that we hit Ballard for the street market, where NJ saw another girl in a stroller who has co-opted her "antique telephone" method of thumb-sucking (thumb in mouth, other hand clutching ear). We got lunch at the extremely kid-friendly Old Town Alehouse (the first place we took her to, I believe, back in the fall). Her wailing was on full display as she scarfed down a lunch of roast beef, fries and bread dipped in minestrone:




Nom nom nom. Waaahh! Nom nom nom. Waaahh! Nom nom nom ...

Finally, at the end of the meal, NJ gave it her hearty seal of approval.

I'll smile for the camera, but I won't let you see my tooth nubbins.

Mouthy Little Kid

A partial list of things that have found their way into NJ's piehole lately:

• Black olives (off Dad Solo's slice at Zeek's for lunch yesterday -- yum)
• Dog hair (straight off Willie the Lab's back -- yech)
• Tooth No. 2
  
• Blades of grass (Dad Solo likes to pluck a blade and tickle NJ's nose and ears with it; she puts a stop to that by grabbing it away and trying to eat it)
• Small flowers (can't play outdoors without trying to eat a little vegetation)
  
• Small leaves (they get tracked into the basement on our shoes)
• Sippy cups (NJ's very adept with these, but doesn't get it right 100 percent of the time)
• Dad Solo's electric toothbrush (Good times. Good times.)

Gaping maw? I'll show you a gaping maw!

Had Me A Swingin' Time

Dad Solo returned home last evening from a trip with his oldest close personal friend. We met up in a city we picked at random between Seattle and Houston so we could both travel there easily. It was fun, and I needed a little R&R after being on Parent Duty nonstop for months and months. Canyons were explored, wild donkeys were viewed, delicious meals were eaten, dice were thrown and elevens were doubled-down upon. Also, this was going on at our hotel, but we didn't buy a sequined glove or a pair of concert-worn socks. (I walked by once and overheard a woman holding a sheet of paper with a number on it telling a camera crew that it was "the happiest day of her life." Don't know what she bought, the poor thing.)

And, of course, a baby was missed. NJ is napping right now with the latest member of her stuffed animal collection, a donkey from the canyon. It might be time to look at other returning-home gift options, as her crib is filling up with stuffed animals. It's a tough call, though, because after months of indifference, she's completely into them now.

NJ had a big weekend while I was away. She sprouted Tooth No. 2, right beside Tooth No. 1, and got a new dress for a wedding we're attending in a couple of weeks. Sunday, she and The Wife teamed up with some friends for a zoo trip; NJ apparently was a big hit at the petting zoo, blowing into the place like Sinatra swaggering into the Sands.

And while I had an awesome time away, it was great to watch NJ smile, laugh and clap as I slid into the back seat yesterday upon my triumphant return to Seattle. She flirted with me all the way home, just the tonic for the weary traveler.

Crossing The Generation Gap

NJ's grandparents returned to Texas yesterday after a six-day love-in. NJ has been a little cranky lately -- and with a new tooth and a touch of diaper rash, who can blame her? -- but she still managed to turn on the charm and keep it flowing. (Of course, the Texas grandparents are a pretty rapt audience, and already in the tank for her. But nonetheless, she killed.)

The grandparents are so crazy about her that Gram didn't even complain when I put NJ's Willie Nelson onesie on her. That's true love.

Thanks for Tickle Me Elmo, Gram and Granddad! Mommy and Daddy love him too! Right, Mommy and Daddy? Elmo, the naked, fuzzy red guy? You like Elmo, too -- right, Mommy and Daddy? Hello? Heh ... well, too bad for you because I call the shots around here!

And Then There Was One

Monday: Inexplicably fussy baby can't be satisfied for a solid chunk of the afternoon (see photo, right)

Tuesday: Inexplicably fussy baby turns 10 months old as Texas grandparents arrive

Wednesday: Inexplicably fussy baby takes a day off the fussy

Thursday: Inexplicably fussy baby cries with Granddad on the sofa

Friday: Inexplicably fussy baby cries again on the sofa, hurting Granddad's feelings (although he wouldn't admit it); Dad Solo peers into fussy baby's gaping maw and discovers that yes, she will indeed sprout teeth after all

Saturday: Who knows? (UPDATE: Now we know -- a thirty-minute crying jag before afternoon nap. Hooray for teeth!)