Julie was out of commission today with some random malady that might be what Lyla had and is definitely, definitely not pregnancy. Let's pause now and give collective props to single parents. I don't know how they do it. I had one full day with the child, and I'm ready to sleep for about three or four days.
After a respectable morning nap, I took her to Potbelly, Sports Authority, and then to the zoo with my dad, Grandpa Tom, or as Lyla calls him, Bah-pa.
Bears lounged, monkeys swung, and leopards plotted escape.
We ran Lyla ragged. I imagined a two or possibly a three-hour nap upon arriving home. Instead Lyla took a zero-minute nap.
This evening, I took her to REI because they have a cool play apparatus that looks like a tree house. There's a stupid-looking bear there with his hand up and a word bubble that says, "If you're taller than me, then you can't play in my tree, asshole," or something like that. I am approximately four feet too tall, but I got right in there to ensure that Lyla didn't suddenly decide to face-plant down the big log steps or whatever.
So we went up the steps, through the log tunnel, down the ridiculously steep steps on the other side, and so on. And so on. And again. And once more. And then again. I began to sweat.
I haven't told the whole story. See, what you must be wondering is why Lyla was such an energetic little freak baby today. Let's just say that since we got home three days ago, her diapers have been lackluster. With each day the suspense has built, until this morning when the cork shot out of her. I know that's a lot of information, but that's exactly what I was thinking when I changed that diaper: dude, that's a lot of information.
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