Things That Fascinate My Daughter

NJ has toys spread out across our house. At any given moment you can reach to the coffee table, the living room floor (inside her play tunnel), the dining room table, the breakfast nook table, anywhere in her room, the basement floor or the office floor and find something to shove into her meaty little hands. Still, there are mundane and random things around the house that positively mesmerize her.


When NJ gets her evening bath in her tub, which fits into the kitchen sink, she loves to look at her distorted reflection in the kitchen sink faucet. Recently she's learned that it swivels, and The Wife and I are on constant alert now to make sure she doesn't bang herself in the mouth with it.


Whenever NJ is playing on the floor and one of The Two Idiots goes strolling by, play time is suspended until he's out of sight or lays down somewhere. NJ loves to pet Willie (L) and feel his soft fur, which we allow under very controlled situations. Zeus (R) never really gets close enough for that. He'll duck in and sniff the top of her head, then dart off like he's stolen a candy bar from a counter display.


As mentioned before, this ceramic bass hangs over an entrance to the kitchen. That's where we take NJ to dance the fussiness out of her, something she enjoys greatly. When she looks up and happens to get Fred the Kitchen Fish in her sights, she locks in on it and pretty much doesn't stop staring at it until she's out of the room. Go figure.


Trying to get ready for the day in the morning, but NJ is crabbing and crying on the bed? Start brushing your teeth with an electric toothbrush and show her what you're doing. Something buzzing weirdly in your mouth -- it's a show-stopper. I can't tell if she is intrigued or horrified, but her eyes get big, she stops squirming, and doesn't move until the thing shuts off.


The washer-sink combo is a weird one. Ambient noise from the dryer and washer make for good basement nap accompaniment. But when the washer discharges its water into the sink, it's a mini-Niagra Falls. The roiling, rumbling water prompts NJ to jerk her head over to see what's going on (she can't, because there's a rack of hanging clothes between her nap swing and the laundry area). The first time it happened it scared her. Now, though, once it's over, she goes back to dozing.


Another nap-time diversion: my cell phone. She watches the reflection of the screen in my glasses and (I think) it calms her. She sees me, sees pretty lights, feels good. If she gets cranky, I call her name and wave the phone back and forth so she can see it. She watches intently and calms down.


More and more, NJ sits in my lap as I sit at the computer. And more and more, she's fascinated by the keyboard. Mommy and Daddy seem to be having a lot of fun, after all, so why not try it? She bangs the handrest area with her full hand, and lately has been reaching up onto the keys themselves. In fact, I had to start this missive over when she made the first version disappear. I think she's embarrassed about the ceramic fish thing.

Turns Out, Five-and-a-Half Months Is "The Age of Aquarium"*

*Oh: It's Age of Aquarius? OK, whatever ... I've got half a pun there and I'm sticking with it.

NJ had a delightful time today at the Seattle Aquarium. She laughed a bit and cooed a lot, smiled a bunch and drooled a gallon. She loved the indoor exhibits -- exotic fish swimming in front of wildly colorful coral reefs, and there was a column of bubbles lit by fluorescent light that she absolutely adored.



(Trust me -- the digital flash does not do this column of lit bubbles justice. It was pink with hot-pink bubbles.)

(And, seriously: Look at her in that hat and pea coat! Who's cuter than that? No one! Who could even be cuter than that? Maybe two, three people, ever, in all of human history -- tops. Perhaps Cleopatra as a child; there's no photographic evidence, but ... maybe. Bottom line: Cute as all get-out.)

NJ also enjoyed the outdoor exhibits, the seals and otters. Slightly less, though, because the bright lighting of the indoor aquariums are more engaging (to an almost six-month-0ld, I assume) than the outdoor venues that house the mammals and birds. Also, she sees Willie the Lab at home, and he is a dead ringer for a seal and/or an otter. So: Been there, done that.

NJ was in good shape after checking out the entire aquarium, so we went across the street to a big antique store. Dad Solo was hoping he might find something the last time he was there, four years ago -- a portrait of Franklin D. Roosevelt that would look awesome on his office wall, next to portraits of Babe Ruth, T-Bone Walker, Thelonious Monk, Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio, Muddy Waters and several other great Americans. Of course, FDR -- our greatest president -- would have made a fine, worthy addition. Sadly, the portrait was gone; I just hope a patriotic American bought it instead of some loony Teabagger hell-bent on using it to make some sort of sick, twisted, misguided fascist/socialist/communist comparison. After all, FDR saved our bacon in the 20th century more than any other American, even Elvis Presley. It's a shame how some people are trashing his memory: NJ will know him as a hero, not as anything resembling the dishonest caricature that a small, uninformed minority are portraying him now. (Our Lab, Willie, is a fan,too -- "I think I have a right to resent, to object, to libelous statements about my dog" rings true to any self-respecting canine.)

NJ was an angel throughout our antique store prowl, but once we got home she was extremely reluctant to take her afternoon nap. The Wife has had trouble putting her down for naps lately, but I think there might have been something else going on: All the talk of aquatic life got her riled up. Lately she's developed a crush on a completely different fish than the sort you'll find at your more respectable aquariums. I think she was pining away for Fred, who hangs over our kitchen doorway. Whenever NJ is in the kitchen, she can't take her eyes off this guy. He's something of a Svengali. Or Fishgali. Whatever. All I know is, when I'm in the kitchen busting my butt to entertain this kid, all she can do is stare up at this ceramic fish. I mean, really: All that thing does is hang there, looking exactly the same, 24/7.

Oh, not that I'm bitter. Any friend of NJ's is a friend of mine.