Exercise

At K-bao's current rate of development she will eventually have the flexibility and adroitness of an indolent land-bound penguin. To inspire some marginal strength and suppleness into those chubby limbs, we have been plopping K-bao on her tummy at every opportunity. K-Mum has also succeeded in tricking her into turning over (by placing an oversized stuffed frog maddeningly just out of reach). Here is one of her recent tummy times in the crib where she is testing the G.I. Joe crawl...very early stages. Beta version. No, alpha version.

Give Yourself a Good Name

Cousin Justin has been visiting the last couple of days from L.A. We told Justin, who is 3, that he could hold Baby Kayla but to be extra gentle with her. Here he is holding on for dear life and treating K-bao as if she were made of precious glass, looking like he might crack from the stress.

At one point astute little Cuz Justin figured out that one of the primary ways we calm K-bao down is to sing to her. The next time he heard the little princess fuss, he took on the responsibility of settling her down with a song and busted out with the tune on his mind. Here we've asked him to sing his song for us again. You can guess where it's from and where he learned it.

Appreciation

K-Pop had baby-sitting duty today and took K-bao out in the afternoon for a leisurely stroll by the water, where she looked out on the Bay and watched the boats sail by. Strangers walked by and nodded and smiled approvingly as K-Pop pointed out the birds and the fishes. Unfortunately K-bao either did not share their sentiments or else inherited K-Pop's short-term memory, for when it came time for feeding and bedtime, any sense of appreciation seems to have been long forgotten.

First, K-bao refused to settle down and take her bottle unless K-Pop made non-stop Zulu clucking sounds throughout, during which time she would stare at Daddy's mouth and swallow absent-mindedly. No cluck, no swallow. By the time the bottle was done, K-Pops' jaw was aching and his lips blue.

Second, K-bao magnanimously presented her Dad with...wait for it...three dirty diapers in less than 15 minutes, all while taking said bottle. Surely this is a record of some kind. And in one case - diaper #2 - the stench was so foul that K-bao herself gagged mid-suck and could not continue. Took a deep breath and literally started choking on her milk. Of course, given prior experience, K-Pop threw off the boppy and rushed the soiled tyke to the changing pad each time lest she spread the wealth to her other clothes. Too late. K-bao managed to sully one onesy, 3 changing sheets, one clean back, one K-Pop hand and about 40 wet wipes on top of the diapers themselves during this period.

Third, K-bao has officially declared war on the changing pad. When placed on it she screams like a punk rocker, and if she is kind enough to have mercy on our eardrums, she will at a minimum raise her pudgy legs in the air (see above), twist like a belly dancer and kick her feet out of our hands and into the dirty diaper at least once.

All of which she could have made up for had she gone to bed quietly without a fuss; instead, K-bao seemed intent on proving the foolishness of the architects who designed our apartments so close to our neighbors'.

What was that? Mommy's home? Hallelujah!

Update: So guess what our royal K did this morning during K-Pop's bottle duty? You guessed it. We are not talking here about leaking out the sides of an undersized diaper. This is overflowing up the back, with a very large and tightly clad diaper thank you, all over K-Pop's hands. Rise and shine, Daddy, rise and shine.

Dads

Over the past few months, we have met up with quite a few new dads-of-daughters. By and large these men are opinionated, articulate, strong characters, guys who know their way about in this world. Now however they have become like so many pieces of pink cotton string tied around their little daughters' infant fingers. Like triceratops with their soft underbellies exposed. In other words, K-Pop is quite relieved to have found some company.