Now that G has developed skills, and the ability to connect them together logically and with purpose to perform great deeds and feats, her gaping amoral void yawns before us, and we must fill it or suffer dire consequences!

In almost as little time as it took her to render our house unfit for living, she moved a stepstool up to the exact spot on the counter above-which sat an icing-covered brownie and proceeded to harvest great troughs of sweets for herself. Over and over again. I’d go check my email and come back to see a scene from Hersheypark gone awry. This is just an example, only seemingly more graphic because there is chocolate involved.

She extracts herself seemlessly from the carseat, only to run across the parking lot.

She selflessly tries to mop up her own spills, knocking over plateware while she wields a broom twice as tall as herself.

She puts on her own clothes and gets stuck, she takes off her own clothes and gets stuck, she climbs through the dog-door and gets stuck, she notices the cat getting stuck in the travel cage on the way to the vet and wants to help cause “Turtle stuck, daddy!”

The innocence with which she filthifies and terrifies me makes it clear that i can stop holding her upside down and looking for 666 beneath her hair. more that she can now put moves together and wherever a third or a fourth move is ambiguous she will extemporize or panic. Sometimes it is good and evil, sometimes it is beyond good and evil and simply her will to power.

She has no fear of new dogs if they are moving slow, and goes up and pets them correctly, leaving an actual evaluaton of their personalities to me. She shows up to daycare and a procession of children toddle by and give her a hug and they all greet eachother by name, leaving an actual evaluation of how snotty they are to me. She has finally grasped the vague and fuzzy concept of garbage, sorta, thus that we are pretty sure she threw out Beckie’s cell phone. With great power comes great respoinsibility. I cannot allow her to carry a plate of food and storm across the house and into any bed that feels comfortable at the moment. Society needs rules!! The alternative – anarchy!

G’s been eager to get back in the pool. But due to it still being a little chilly, she’s been mostly happy to play in and around the pool. A lot of tossing and wading is occurring. Its good for my knees.

when the pool got full, Daddy went diving for rocks. This is harder than it sounds. The water is brisk but not an issue, but i can only hold 4-6 rocks at a time even with much breath remaining. So it took awhile.

She laughed every time I surfaced.

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Beckie’s company had a giant event at a local waterpark. It was kinda a zoo, but we figured it would be a fun new experience for G. People were everywhere, we had long walks to get to things, and i was happy to see G not freaking out or getting tired or getting separated. The inevitable going in circles when we first got there made her a bit frazzled, but holding hands and keep her listening for my voice delivered us relatively intact at a small pool with slides running into it. the pool was about 2 feet deep, and open to kids 7 and under. G suddenly looked, and acted, very small. She wasn’t a fan of the water exactly, she was wearing a life jacket and knew it kept her safe. “wear the jacket G, so we can be safe”, Beckie kept quoting Dora. it was really the newness and all the other kids running around that freaked her out. About half a dozen times she rallied to climb the staircase and go down the slide, but the splashing at the end really disturbed her. She just doesn’t enjoy getting her face wet.

Better to let her set her own pace. I know this by having taught kids to swim when i lifeguarded at the JCC summer camp, and saw how no amount of convincing or swift action made a dent for the kids who were afraid of the water. At least she gets in, and is comfortable up to her limits – its a base to build on. but i can’t help but be disappointed that she isn’t as headlong into swimming as she is with everything else. Today I did laps in the pool for the first time in almost 9 months, and i knocked out 1000 yards without a stop, such is my body accustomed from so young and age, and reinforced over the years as an adult, to be able to swim. Nonetheless, i need to pinch myself and realize its all about G getting to her comfort level, and knowing G it will happen eventually, likely as part of a vigorous game of toss the baby. I do think she needs water wings as they will put her into a swimming posture better than a vest will.

So, after a lot of wading and hand-holding around the pool, which was nonetheless very cute, we moved on to our free lunch. This was an equally hazardous proposal – food, mess, people with plates full of food, people with plates full of potential mess, buffet, holding hands, and a baby that does not like to sit still. The plan of attack was for Beckie to arrive with a plate full of food at precisely the same instant G and I sat down, whereupon I would saddle up to the bu-ffet. It worked relatively well. Though unspeakable things were seen in that lunchroom involving the public, their eating habits, and their diet. Hard to talk when i had 14 cookies, 3 hamburgers and a weiner – but i am not 80 lbs too heavy for a speedo, and had made a point of doing the Usery Loop, a yoga class, and then 45 minutes more in the gym that morning. i ain’t saying i can’t too lose a few lbs…just that there are many fewer to lose.

The Lazy River raft ride called after lunch. We got a 2-person tube and G sat in Beckie’s lap. Not as much fun as the Salt River, and way too close to your neighbors, but technically-speaking we did wait 30 minutes before swimming. G did not like riding through the Leaky Barrelworks and getting sprayed, but after Beckie covered her face she relatively enjoyed it.

another long traverse and crowd experience put as at the wave pool. G plunged in and looked happy running across the shallow water in the beach area, but again all the crowds and splashing made her shy. I didn’t much like the crowds and keeping a 2-year-old afloat either – Rocky Point has spoiled us. One final long walk brought us past all the really cool slides, which had really long lines. It was like waiting to ride the Agassiz lift in Flagstaff, and having a pool and a bike to huck and a baby to play with, i skipped them.

And it was well-worth it, for before us we saw the ultimate playground! It was maybe 30 feet cubed, and brilliantly divided into a maze of interlocking tunnels, tubes, rope climbs, slides and many other wonderful things all built onto a foam-covered forgiving superstructure. It was a colorful Escher drawing come alive. G went nucking futz! We took turns chasing her through that for nearly an hour. She never stopped, shit i never stopped it was a hoot, and if only i was 3-4 feet tall i would have loved it even more. We both loved sliding 2 stories down the circular slides with our bums slick from the pool.

Eventually G started to get stumbly, which is the only sign to the unaware eye that she is pooped. She was cranky for the long walk back to the other side of the park, and i carried her to make it easier but put up with a tantrum and getting booted with her beach shoes. The “tsk tsk”ers didn’t really bother me, i just pointed her beach shoes at them so they could get some too. The baby works well as a weapon of reverse-passive aggression in a confined space.

We spent a few more minutes in a splash area. G had fun in Chicago, but she was pooped and this was all about, well, splashing. So we headed.

She was out within 2 minutes of getting in the car, but still demanded to go to the park that night.

G and i have worked out a morning routine – she gets up, pees, and i feel better about myself knowing i do not have to change a wet diaper but only rinse some baby pee down the toilet. It works out pretty well; she pees, i pee, we eat breakfast. Many times i don’t put a diaper back on her since i know she is empty and i may give her a bath – at the very least there is no point messing up a freshy with the slops of the morning meal.

the other morning was going swimmingly. then in the blink of an eye, or more appropriately, the approximately 43 seconds it took me to wipe the floor of the tailings of the AM engorgement, the most horrific pants-catastrophe in all of history occurred. She comes toddling back into the kitchen, naked from the waist down with poo streaked down her legs going “i’m poopy.” and then reached for me with poo-covered hands. i placed her in the tub and noticed part of a pert little baby turd in the potty, part smeared across the seat. Its a complex act of public relations trying to convince a little girl who is rolling in her own shit and getting sprayed with the shower massage that she did very good almost making the potty. Then i noticed her poo-covered pants lying in a heap on the floor, and the CSI recreation was complete. WOW! talk about getting overwhelmed by the urge, but i’m proud of my tinyHuman’s effort at salvaging the situation.

This morning was equally dramatic, though less gross. We’re trodding to the potty as per usual, and as she is slipping off her britches i turn around to see the floor covered in pee. It was like there was no peeing, then someone spilled a glass of water, all in about 3 seconds. Again, i congratulate G on her pluck and good intentions while getting the mop. A 1/3 of a banana and 10 minutes and 4 seconds of inattention later, there is a fresh deuce in the bowl and a little girl with a fistful of TP.

Maybe i need to set up some Reader’s Digest or old SIs in there to slow this down? Maybe aliens are trying to confuse me? Maybe the force of buildup in a baby’s bung can power a neighborhood and reduce our dependency on foreign oil?

G has grown very fond of these shoes.

I know why – she can put them on and take them off herself. And since they are big she feels like a big little girl. And since we leave them near the door she can put them on to go out in the back yard and avoid scratchies, and she is drunk with the sense of empowerment. We should get her some other slip-on shoes.

The socks are an entirely different story. Something tells me they have been playing with hand puppets at day care. She calls them her monkeys. Maybe its the monkeys from Baby Einstein?

this is only creepy if you have a dirty mind. her display was completely spontaneous.