The Sincerest Form of Flattery

Yes. I am nearsighted. No. I do not always wear my glasses.

The other day, I was helping the Bug get some tunes going on Pandora. Not a big deal. It just involved looking back and forth between the remote and the TV to type and make menu selections.

As the station was loading, I look over to see the bug, with another remote inches from her face, squinting her eyes just about shut and raising her upper lip enough to expose her top row of teeth while she slowly pressed buttons with her thumb. My vision isn't that bad.

Another fun thing to do is say "big daddy." Not just say it once, or even ten times, but to repeat it on a loop measured best by minutes. "Big" must often be emphasized by volume, duration, and fully extended arms.

Exuberance

We've reached that happy stage where not only does the bug recognize when we've arrived at one of her favorite play destinations, but she also reacts with flailing limbs and high-volume chants.

"Okayyy! Play, play, playyy! Yayyy! Okay, play, playyy! I see play, play!"

And so on.

We're starting to teach the fine line between being really happy and being really loud. The former is much more socially acceptable as we age. The latter has limited acceptance inside enclosed places such as cars. For now, it's still kinda cute.

Another Bug's Treasure

Over the last month or so, the Bug has been using the phrase "Icky trash" to describe a wide variety of discoveries. Now she has wifey and I saying it, too.

Oddly enough, icky trash can be used to describe something that must be played with immediately. Such as a patch of sand on the sidewalk. Nevertheless, she uses her phrase to call attention to something that doesn't belong where it is and she hasn't learned the word for it yet.

At home, she knows where icky trash goes and will put the item in the closest trash can. Unless we have asked her to throw something away, it's a good idea to double check that the disposed of item really is trash.

Ankh You, Daddy. Ankh You.

At first, I thought the Bug was saying her version of "Here you go." Context and expression helped put it all together.

I gave her some pesto tortellini, "Ankh you, daddy. Ankh you."

I helped her climb on to the couch, "Ankh you, daddy. Ankh you."

I watched one of her favorite movies with her, "Ankh you, daddy. Ankh you."

I found her pacifier when it was obvious she was still too tired after waking up from her first tent camping experience, "Ankh you, daddy. Ankh you."

You're welcome.