Embarrassment

In that photo Lyla has found my pretentious cast-iron teacup. One day things like that will embarrass the hell out of her.

When I picked up Lyla at daycare, she was hopped up on goofballs.

"Do you want to run?" I said.

"Yeah!"

And she was off. I followed her as she passed an amused mother, zipped around the corner, down the hall, around the next corner, and all the way down the next hall.

"You're a crazy girl."

"I CAZY GUWL!"

Lyla was in no mood to return to where we started; as I carried her back, we came up behind that same mother who was now walking with her own daughter and saying the following: "Walk, honey. We don't run in school." We passed them sheepishly.

By the front door, the still-wired Lyla and I had our first epic jacket battle in weeks. "NOOOO, DADA! NO DATTET! AAHHH!"

The civilized mother and daughter walked hand-in-hand past us and out the door as I wedged Lyla between my knees and began to stuff her first arm into the jacket.

One day things like that will embarrass the hell out of me.