So, I had these brand-new pictures of the daughter, but, to paraphrase the great philosopher Dolby, “I’ve tidied up, and I can’t find anything.” I’ll blame the stress of the holidays.
Not often, but occasionally, and only recently, Lydia has been saying, “Omigod!” It’s not a word/phrase than generally crosses the lips of her mother and me, so I asked one of her day care teachers about it. She thinks it’s another student who Lydia is mimicking.
The thing is that she says it when surprised, like a veteran user would. Of course, what surprises her may differ from what surprises others. Carol sometimes keeps her earrings under her pillow – no, I don’t know why – and Lydia discovered them, and came up with the retort.
It’s our inclination to discourage her, we get over the fact that, for some unknown reason, I find myself stifling laughter when she does it. Bad daddy!
We want her to be sure she knows the given names of her mother and me, which she does, without actually calling us by our given names. She’s only tested that idea once. Interestingly (to me), she stopped when I started calling her “daughter” instead of her name.
This is Lydia’s first Christmas where she is starting to understand this Santa Claus and presents gig. Her mother and I are trying to limit the amount of things she gets, buy she’s got grandparents and aunts and uncles. Even before the big day, she’s been receiving lots of STUFF, so we’re busy trying to regulate the volume she has at any one time, lest her toy box explode. At the same time, we appreciate the kindness and wisdom of these folks who had children before we did, so it’s a balancing act.
Happy 2 3/4, Lydia. Love, “Daddy” (not “Roger”)
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Peanut-sniffing dog.
