Julie's parents came over with birthday gifts for Lyla and lunch for everyone. Grandpa John gave Lyla a washed-out little plastic bottle that previously contained juice. Throughout the afternoon, he pulled quarter after quarter from behind her ears and she plunked those quarters into that bottle, fascinated and immensely pleased with herself. The quarter in the ear: classic grandpa illusion. The improvised storage container: genius.
So the excitement around Grandma and Grandpa led to a late nap; fast-forward to this evening and here's what led to a late bedtime.
Ninety minutes past Lyla's bedtime, when Jodie, Matt, Ava, and our friend Luke had left and Lyla had finally burned off all the sugar in her system (mostly by sprinting around the house while hitting a balloon and shouting "Puh-ple boon!"), she finally agreed, grudgingly, that it was nigh-night time. Julie left her in the crib sitting in the dark with a book. Books are the new binkies. As an English teacher, I couldn't be more pleased.
Rewind to this morning. At 8:11, I brought Lyla into our bedroom to rouse her mother.
"Mama, wate up!"
"Hi Lyla."
"Mama!"
"Happy birthday, Lyla."
"Yeah!"
"Careful Lyla, be gentle with Mama. Don't jump on her belly."
Lyla nodded. "Yeah. Baby bruddow."
Wow. It's tough to comprehend that in about two months, we'll have another birth day.
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