Little Miss (Pre)Sunshine
I really appreciate all these sunrises Erin lets me experience with her.
I've also caught up on contemporary VH-1 videos. Can't seem to get Katy Perry's "Hot & Cold" out of my head.
Speaking of the latter, I'm getting over my version of the Cold That Ate Pocomoke, still tickling Ryan's throat and oozing ectoplasma out of Erin's nostrils, so Ainsley allowed me to take NyQuil last night and go to bed early. Which of course meant I could have slept through the house next door exploding. Let alone the girl in the next room. But hear her I did at 6:12am (Yay, weekend!), and found her standing in her crib, lost in the jungle that is her animal-centric mobile. I picked her up, and she patted my chest and back with a satisfied grin, signaling that She Was Up. Time for grapes, peach poofs, and SportsCenter downstairs until the rest of the house wakes up.
Erin likes the hockey.
I also spent the morning with her yesterday, for about an hour before Ainsley got up, and then for four hours while Ainsley and Ryan ran some errands Like Old Times. I'll bet Ryan appreciated having his Mommy to himself for a spell, while Erin was a dream for me, going down for a 90-minute nap with nary a nitpick.
Today was a lovely day for a dog walk, though Ryan's getting a little too rambunctious to play nice in the wagon with his sister. Just not a lot of leg room for a long jaunt. He burned off some energy once we got to our park at the halfway point, but getting home was interesting: Erin started to doze off sitting up, so I picked her up in my arms. Kind of a scene trying to get three dogs, a wagon, a 3-year-old who wanted to ride on someone's shoulders, and an asleep baby girl up the last hill and across the street with only four hands between me and my dad.
Still nice after nap and a Redskins victory vs. the Lions, so we took Ryan out into the backyard to try out his new plastic baseball tee to go with his new mitt (thank you, Boivins!). He's good at the aiming and counting 1-2-3 part, but lacks a little oomph in the follow-through. And also seems more interested in knocking the tee over once the ball's off. But after some coaxing, Ryan was able to smack a pretty good ball between the two of us, but then threw his bat down and darted away, seemingly spooked.
"Ryan, what's wrong?"
"I hit a home run!" he said, raising his hands in 'touchdown' pose.
So he hadn't 'thrown' his bat, he had given it a celebratory 'fling'.
The hell does he learn this stuff?
It's ERIN I'm watching SportsCenter with.
I've also caught up on contemporary VH-1 videos. Can't seem to get Katy Perry's "Hot & Cold" out of my head.
Speaking of the latter, I'm getting over my version of the Cold That Ate Pocomoke, still tickling Ryan's throat and oozing ectoplasma out of Erin's nostrils, so Ainsley allowed me to take NyQuil last night and go to bed early. Which of course meant I could have slept through the house next door exploding. Let alone the girl in the next room. But hear her I did at 6:12am (Yay, weekend!), and found her standing in her crib, lost in the jungle that is her animal-centric mobile. I picked her up, and she patted my chest and back with a satisfied grin, signaling that She Was Up. Time for grapes, peach poofs, and SportsCenter downstairs until the rest of the house wakes up.
Erin likes the hockey.
I also spent the morning with her yesterday, for about an hour before Ainsley got up, and then for four hours while Ainsley and Ryan ran some errands Like Old Times. I'll bet Ryan appreciated having his Mommy to himself for a spell, while Erin was a dream for me, going down for a 90-minute nap with nary a nitpick.
Today was a lovely day for a dog walk, though Ryan's getting a little too rambunctious to play nice in the wagon with his sister. Just not a lot of leg room for a long jaunt. He burned off some energy once we got to our park at the halfway point, but getting home was interesting: Erin started to doze off sitting up, so I picked her up in my arms. Kind of a scene trying to get three dogs, a wagon, a 3-year-old who wanted to ride on someone's shoulders, and an asleep baby girl up the last hill and across the street with only four hands between me and my dad.
Still nice after nap and a Redskins victory vs. the Lions, so we took Ryan out into the backyard to try out his new plastic baseball tee to go with his new mitt (thank you, Boivins!). He's good at the aiming and counting 1-2-3 part, but lacks a little oomph in the follow-through. And also seems more interested in knocking the tee over once the ball's off. But after some coaxing, Ryan was able to smack a pretty good ball between the two of us, but then threw his bat down and darted away, seemingly spooked.
"Ryan, what's wrong?"
"I hit a home run!" he said, raising his hands in 'touchdown' pose.
So he hadn't 'thrown' his bat, he had given it a celebratory 'fling'.
The hell does he learn this stuff?
It's ERIN I'm watching SportsCenter with.
posted by Dan at 8:31 PM
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