Who Could Resist?

I do not look forward to the day that we have to start saying no.

Perhaps I should begin a strict puppy-kicking regimen so I'm well-practiced in cruelty by the time I have to thwart her.

Helping Daddy

If you were making a vast quantity of soup in a heavy Dutch oven that you were about to transfer to the oven, who would you want hanging out at your knees?

Margaret, of course.

We moved her before any hot liquids were poured over her head (and before we did any soup moving).  Still,  she likes to be where the action is.

Teeth, Marvelous Teeth

I think that Margaret is getting another tooth.  I think this because . . . well, because she has been drooling like (quick, what's something besides a blithering idiot that drools a lot?  A baby getting a tooth?  That's all you've got?  I'm getting a new rhetorical construct to talk to, because you are not very good with finding a useful simile in a pinch) a baby getting a tooth.

See?

This Is Why

This is why sometimes there aren't as many pictures of Margaret as you might like.

She's so fascinated by everything I am interested in* (except, infuriatingly, falling asleep when I want to fall asleep) that it is somewhat difficult to get her to keep doing the cute thing she's doing instead of charging the camera and trying to put it in her mouth.

Here's a similar experience instill photos.

See?  Unstoppable.


*Or, for those of you so inclined, in which I am interested.

Swing, Part 2

Sometimes, when she spends all day in the house with only her parents to entertain her, Margaret gets bored.

Because, let's be honest, Leo and I are fairly boring people.

So yesterday, even though it was cold enough to freeze something unspeakable off of either a brass monkey or a witch, depending on your preference and which you had on hand, we took her outside for a brief stint in her swing.

Happiness.

Reading

Margaret seems to have figured out books.  Sort of.  I mean, she hasn't gotten down the important "do not bend, spindle, fold or mutilate" rule that will make her beloved of librarians everywhere, but she has gotten that the pages are there to be turned.

And she likes doing it.

Particularly on books that aren't board books, because those are the ones that we read.  Yesterday, she stole a soup and stew cookbook right out from under my nose.

And then this morning, we gave her her Dr. Seuss book, because it's the same size, and she only took it after I tried to read it for a while, convincing her that it was something I wanted.*

I think she looks very studious.

*Anyone trying to explain mimetic desire should just get people to watch some children for a while.

She's Not Mad, She's Disappointed

Whatever I did, it was wrong.  Absolutely wrong.

Also, Leo thinks that she looks like my mom in this picture.

Not the expression, he hastens to add, but something else.  Well, and with rigorous investigation and genetic analysis by looking at some pictures randomly, we figured out that the eyes and eyelashes have to come from her, so there's that.