matching tracksuits

The girl has been crawling for some time now, but since we've moved to our new house with hardwood floors throughout, she's adapted her crawl so it's less painful.

It surely started earlier, but the first time I noticed my tendency to nod off was in high school. It was usually during first period, and that morning after friends and I had traveled to Blacksburg to see the Indigo Girls, it was almost impossible to fight. During church it was tough sometimes as well. It didn't help that some sermons went for 90 or more minutes...

College wasn't much better, but at least I finally began creating a nodding-off rhythm for myself. Around four every afternoon, it became unreasonable to do anything other than sleep. Nap, I called it, but it was really much deeper than that.

The triggers were more varied than the time of day, though. Reading often sent me into spasms of yawning, which is particularly problematic for an English major.

These days, it strikes in the early evening. This too can be problematic, for I have evening duty with the Girl, and it's during that time that she's particularly needy and wants a lap and snuggles: if we're sitting in a chair, I'm always a little worried that she might somehow tumble out of my arms and bounce on her head a time or two.

The other evening, as I was nodding off, the Girl on my lap and snuggled into the crook of my arm, I noticed she'd suddenly become very calm as she was looking at her book. I looked over to see her eyes slowly closing, her head drifting forward until a sudden jerk brought her head back up and opened her eyes.

What a thing to inherit.

She's there every single time L and I head to the bathroom for L's evening bath. It always takes her a few minutes to notice us, and when she does, she seems just as confused as we are. But then the Girl in the Mirror smiles a little, and somehow L manages to smile at that exact moment, and then it's laughs and giggles all around.

New video with L learning to crawl -- rather, already knowing. Didn't catch enough in the act of learning...

I sometimes play guitar for L. She likes it, but she doesn't sit quietly and listen, much to my dismay. It's not that she doesn't appreciate music -- she loves music. The problem is she wants to play too:

It's not that I mind her playing. Rather, it's somewhat dangerous: her little fingers fit between the strings and a tug can cause her sudden pain as the string digs into her.

Still, it's an enjoyable way to pass some time.

The Girl met her first horse the other day:

She wasn't exactly thrilled.

Last night, before L went to bed, I'd put in a Nina Simone CD, figuring it was calming enough to play in the evening.

Little did I know.

A few minutes later, while trying to put the Girl to sleep, I began the CD again. She wasn't crying, but she wasn't settling down. I rocked her, walked her, bounced her gently, talked to her -- all the tricks, but she was just not completely calming down.

When track six -- "I loves you, Porgy" -- began, instant calm. So I did the logical thing: hit repeat and put the Girl to sleep by playing one of the loveliest songs ever...about fifteen times.

As an aside, here's a very sweet claymation video set to a Simone song:

Who would have thought it was possible for a little, sweet, burpy seven-month-old to sleep a full twelve hours, enabling parents to get work done and get eight hours’ sleep?

Who would have imagined that a body used to significantly less sleep can sleep a full eight hours without the whole system going haywire?

Who would have thought it would only happen one night?