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.