Detour

Contrary to expectations, Lyla did not want to frolic in the leaves.

"Come on, Lyla. Crunch crunch crunch in the leaves!"

"No cunch. Hy-dint!"

When we were just about to cross the street for the hydrant, Lyla veered left and informed me that plans had changed.

"Pay-gound."

"But Mama just called and demanded an immediate online pizza order."

Lyla nodded patiently. "Pay-gound."


"Hey Lyla, there's your shadow."

"Dada saddow."

"Dada's shadow is big."

"Yeah. Lyla saddow."

"Lyla's shadow is small."

"Lyla saddow bid."

"Whatever, dude. If you say so."


"Ev-ah dude."

At the playground while I ordered pizza the old-fashioned way, Lyla grossly miscalculated her distance to the ground from the giant truck climbing apparatus. After dangling by one hand for an instant, she fell, and I caught her with my non-pizza-phone hand. It was a brilliant moment of cheetah-like reflexes, and I immediately looked around to determine whether other parents had seen it and wanted to applaud.

Yes, I realize I was the guy on the cellphone while the not-yet-two-year-old almost fell off the giant truck. Blame the pregnant lady.

Not exactly sitting

I have serious problems with the "catsup" spelling of ketchup, but that happens to be exactly how Lyla pronounces it. Her post-daycare hot-messery continued today, so when we got home and she didn't want anything...

"Hummus?"

"No ummutz!"

"Bread?"

"No bed!"

"Grapes?"

"No gapes!"

...I asked her if there was anything, anything at all that she did want.

"Catsup."

"Just ketchup?"

"Yeah."


So we had some ketchup, which actually served as a gateway to other, more proper foods.

Then Ava came over while Jodie and Matt went out for their anniversary. Lyla helped feed her.




Julie had to work late, so when Jodie and Matt left I found myself the caretaker of two miniature human beings.

"Lyla, can you give Ava a nice hug?"


Oh sweet Jesus.

Lyla got a little territorial with her mailbox. Of course, my parental involvement consisted of taking pictures.








She did serve a brief timeout for a Lego-throwing infraction.


Then Julie came home and made it all look sickeningly easy.

Hormonal

On the hot mess continuum, this afternoon Lyla was somewhere between chili pepper and blowtorch. Had someone shot off a heat-seeking missile in the vicinity, it would have blown us off the road. Here she is looking relatively calm due to poor photographic timing, not calmness.


"Upstairs down slide! Upstairs down slide!"

"Are you mad because you can't go up the stairs and down the slide right now?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Do you like to play on the playground at school?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Do you--"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"--like to swing, too?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Yeah."

"Well, maybe later we can--"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Then she noticed I was taking her picture (at a red light, duh) and flipped from rage to silly faster than her mother on her most hormonal-preggers days.



Of course, then she said this: "Dada, ammal phone!"

(Julie has a barn animal app on her phone. I don't.)

"Dada, ammal phone! Ammal phone! AMMAL PHONE!"

"Lyla, I don't--"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"


Hey, I know! Let's have another kid!

Shoulda

Shoulda probably foregone the teeth brushing in favor of some hair brushing.

Perchance to dream

We didn't snip the tips off any binkies tonight. How do you decide that this will be the night you might not get any sleep? I think we'll always choose the instant gratification a good night of sleep provides. This child, therefore, will likely use a binky until her fiance gives her an ultimatum.

Speaking of sleeping and not sleeping, I got bamboozled by the pregnant lady this morning, my morning to sleep in. "Dan, I, ahem ahem, don't think I can get up with her."

"Up peez! Book!" Lyla said from her crib in the next room.

"Dan?"

"You're playing the pregnant card, aren't you."

"I think I'm playing the pregnant card."

A normal person would've felt an iota of guilt, but Julie slid back into sleep like a sociopath.

Julie woke up just after 10:00. She took Lyla to two parks and then to Starbucks, so I guess we're pretty much even--except when a pregnant lady is involved, there is no such concept as even. Two parks and Starbucks earns Julie 34,582 wife points, but I get zero husband points for the wake-up. Pregnancy trumps everything, especially your desire to sleep.

Then the baby comes and trumps your desire to sleep even more.

Which is why we're not yet ready to snip the binkies.

Princess

Wedding photos are in yesterday's post. Here's how the day started.

"No!"

"Lyla, do you want to wear sparkly princess shoes?"

"Yeah."

"Then we need to put your dress on."

"No! No dess!"

"Only girls with dresses get to wear sparkly princess shoes."

"Yeah."

"Okay, it's dress time!"

"NO!"

My mom and I stuffed her into it despite a lot of spirited wiggling, and then I strapped her into her car seat.

Lyla and I arrived at the ceremony location and were immediately instructed by the overzealous wedding planner to wait in the lobby. "We're still setting up, and it might be dangerous for her," he said while gesticulating.

As soon as he swiveled away from us, we slipped past and into the main room, by the grace of God avoiding whatever danger he was referring to.

I'll spare you the full play-by-play. Let's just say that Lyla's mood started out awful and got better and better. I convinced her that riding in the wagon was a spectacular idea. You can see her and Ava coming down the aisle in the previous post. (Poor Bella wasn't feeling well, so the three wagoners became two.)

Then I pulled Lyla from the wagon and onto my lap in a second-row aisle seat. The ladies looked beautiful, the lads strapping. The officiant began. "We are gathered--"

"More wagon!"

I got her out of there fast. We watched the rest of the ceremony from the back of the room. I explained to Lyla that her Auntie Jen was getting married and that Jason would now officially become Uncle Jason.

"Wagon time, Dada."

"You did such a good job in the wagon."

"Yeah. More wagon."

"Shh. We have to be very quiet."

Then I pulled out my trump card: a binky.

And everything was perfect in the way that weddings always are. And now we're home.

Out the door

Just about out the door. I'm picking Lyla up at my parents' house, driving to the ceremony, and then dropping her off again. Tonight Julie and I are staying in a hotel. I'm not bringing my computer.

So I'll share details of the glory (and also the glorious meltdowns) tomorrow.

On the way, I'll teach Lyla the words to "You can't ride in my red wagon; the wheels are broken and the axle's draggin'."

***Update***

Here are some photos.









I'll write more tonight. For now, suffice it to say that everyone performed admirably.