Just a Thursday Morning
Typical Thursday at the PDX Dad residence:
Fae is flipping, twirling, dancing, running, hopping, banging, and otherwise just is burning some great energy while listening to different world music. She seems to especially like mariachi, sitar, and drums. Not so much the Americana, although she likes Dylan and Guthrie (you go alterna-girl!). I still don’t understand how she can flip around, retain the music, play with her doodlepad, and have a conversation with Imaginary Tod and Copper from watching Fox and the Hound last night.
“Oh, Fae, let’s not do the howling inside the house, Ok?”
Yuki just passed out from feeding in Kiki’s arms. One of my official job duties is the carter of baby from mom to crib, as mom sits and works on her own site. It’s a delicate operation: extract baby from mom in the correct configuration to gently set Yuki into her crib without having to shift her from arm to arm; navigate the blankets, pillows, crayons and markers, the giant blue stuffed Pegasus, doodlepad, and five-year-old (Who is now listening to “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” while laying down. Boo!) laying about the living room; try not to crash into the desk chair blocking the nursury doorway while moving it with my foot; navigate the baby gym, blocks, and really freakin’ loud baby toys; then pray to whatever cosmic force there is to keep me from banging Yuki’s dangling arms into the side of her crib while fixing her elevation wedge.
I also appear to be the “second cup of coffee” carter for Kiki. Which is fine, if it’s the price I pay for a nice and chill day with the second parent. Plus, Kiki’s the “first cup of coffee” carter, since I tend to forget coffee’s already made.
“What just happened?” asked Fae.
“Your CD’s done,” Kiki and I say in unison (I resiste the urge to jinx, permanent jinx her. Like that would work anyway.).
And so Fae starts the CD again.
And so it all starts again.