We dropped Lyla off at my parents' house for a couple hours today, and Uncle Scott took this photo of her flinging bubbles on the deck. Instead of blowing them, she dipped the wand and flailed her arms. I don't know if this technique ever resulted in bubbles, but I do know that when we picked her up again at 3:00, she wasn't wearing pants.
We strapped her into the car seat, and within four minutes she was fast asleep. Quick transfer to the crib when we got home, and she woke up again two hours later. You never know when you'll encounter the Sunday afternoon nap. It's so strange and unpredictable, like a unicorn in your front yard. When Lyla woke up, we put pants on her and went out to eat, where she devoured approximately 37 grapes, 17 green beans, and as much ketchup as you can fit on 49 green beans (most of the 17 she ate were double or triple dipped).
On the way out of the restaurant, Lyla got that look in her eyes, that intense, concentrated look. When her forehead began to vibrate, we knew she was dropping an epic load. We de-pantsed her in the back of the car and changed her diaper. It was gag-worthy.
Then home for a bath (no pants) and bed (pants).
i did teach her how to actually blow bubbles. nothing came out but she's a smart little devil.
ReplyDeleteShe blows on her food when she thinks it's too hot (it never is), and what she actually does with her mouth would make a fine sound on a miniature trumpet.
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