I would stick it in my mouth, hammer things, sing, dance, and chew on it some more.
That’s a lot like hammering in the morning, you know?
Incidentally, the music was playing at the time we recorded it. We are not tech savvy enough to add it.
This afternoon, after we got back from an outing to the store (because Margaret gets really bored with staying home all day with just Leo and I, so sometimes we take her out to see life at its most brutal – the grocery store on Saturday afternoon) Leo and Margaret decided to survey the construction on the house next to us.
It’s not very impressive, actually.
They then decided to come in, because it’s cold.
Margaret enjoyed her ride on Daddy’s shoulders.
She urged him to gallop by twisting her fingers in his mane.*
But then she remembered somewhat shyly that one isn’t really meant to tear one’s daddy’s hair out by the roots.
*This is, if you’re interested, a particularly amusing locution, because Margaret is using Leo as a horse, which has a mane, and his name means lion, which also has a mane. We’re very clever at our house.
We had a couple of days of completely beautiful weather, which Margaret and I took advantage of. We went to the playground, and I put Margaret in a swing, because she likes swings.
Of course, she is also completely intrigued by other children, so she spent all of the time in the swing with her head turned sideways to scope out the kid in the swing next to her.
I decided that I should let her out to toddle about, since there were lots of kids waiting to use the swing, and she was more interested in looking at them.
And then it got to be 5:20, and all the children miraculously disappeared (apparently I skipped the parenting class where I was meant to learn that one had to leave the park at 5:20. Ah well).
Margaret had more scope for her wanderings, and found another swing.
And another another swing.
Which she then tried. It has 4 buckles and 5 places to tighten the harness. It seemed very involved. But she liked it because I was willing to push the swing higher than usual, since there was absolutely no way she could fall out.
I do feel, however, that it shouldn’t be possible to make the usual “this baby needs a beer” comment when the baby is in a swing. O tempora, o mores and so forth.
Ron and I took Margaret to the Magic House (a children’s museum) today, and Margaret had quite the time in the small person area. The picture in the previous post was from there, and – just to clear up some misconceptions – was taken in a play kitchen, and the knife was made of plastic.
Anyway, here’s one of a girl who has experienced for the first time going down a slide all by herself.
The balls in her hands went to a toy that was a series of ramps. Ron tried to show her how it worked, but his attempts were met with skepticism.
And then with determination not to play his little games.
And then she offered them to him, only to yank them back at the last minute.
He eventually persuaded her, however.
While at the museum, we also drove a school bus.
And Margaret had her picture taken (this is where it gets meta).
Anyway, fun was had by all.
I realize that there is snow on the ground, and so we look like negligent parents, but it was really nice out, for all the snow hadn’t melted. And Margaret wanted to swing, really she did.
I thought she might be getting a little chilly, though, so I put my sweatshirt on her to keep her warm. She thought that was a scream.
Apparently I need to spend more time being absolutely certain that the barricades that we have built throughout the living room and dining room are absolutely Margaret-proof, because this morning, she had a bit of an adventure.
And she does not seem to realize that she is not really supposed to pull all the Kleenex out of the box. I think that she’d do it again if she had the chance. I worry about her moral development, I really do.
Last night, as I started moving Margaret toward bed, I took off her sweatshirt, which was not appreciated, not one little bit. She set about rectifying the situation. She thought about it,
looked at the sweatshirt critically,
and put it back on.
Actually, she piled the whole thing on her head and set off, but I didn’t get a picture of it balanced on top of her head.
Margaret is intrigued and excited by Puck. Puck is completely terrified of Margaret. The relationship seems to be working. Puck, however, is having to come to terms with Margaret’s new mobility.
He got a bit disturbed by her ability to pet him, and so took off. She gave chase.
He looks a bit more demonic caught in the flash than he needs to be, but it appears to me that at some point in the near future, they are going to have to come to some new arrangement.
Another weekend adventure involved taking Margaret to the Boathouse in Forest Park for Sunday brunch (because where better to go in the depths of winter than a boathouse, you know?)
While there, Margaret made the acquaintance of some ducks.
She got her wires a bit crossed, though, and instead of feeding them tried to eat Leo.
Leo had taken her out to see and feed them earlier, and had absentmindedly handed her some bread to give them. The bread didn’t make it to the ducks.