And just like that, Alana is racing across the house like an impassioned daschund. Her racing is glacial compared to G, who has never once gone anywhere at a walking pace, but G at least can now mostly be counted on to not endo, drown, electrocute or eviscerate herself. Childproofing labels out to say “6-18 months” or some similar age-appropriate verbage. Just as crap that is now on CraigsList was only a month ago THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD, mandates that have been filling me with paranoia for, roughly, the last 8 months could have been much less concern up til now if only for a simple age-appropriate warning.

I remember so little of this about G. My memories of G are of a happy, upbeat, energyball. Lacking blog reference, and having only pictures that almost-categorically are of sweet happy shiny things, my documentation is biased. Historiographers from all schools agree.   I’ve blocked it all out, 1 was so much easier than 2 it seemed not so bad, without the internet I have no record.

The need for vigilance is suddenly at a premium.   Kila’s need to finish her dogfood is suddenly at a premium.   Yesterday, Alana pitched off the bed, fortunately it was in the guest room where there is carpet.   Now in fairness to me, I spent the previous 45 minutes dozing, hungover, keeping her from going over the edge while she repeatedly crawled to the nightstand to grab the most interesting piece of plastic in the entire history of humanity.   She’d slither, I’d grab her ankle and yank her back.   She’d scale, I’d grab her collar and yank her back.   She’d portage, I ‘d grab her by the britches and yank her back.   She fell over in the 3 seconds it took me to get up, get to the side of the bed, and reach to pick her up.   Just like that.

I bought her a better high chair off CL for $25, and its probably going to be the best baby prop for the next 6 months.   Suddenly Alan is level, comfortable, and with a tray for toys and stuffing her own food into her own mouth.   It nutritional, and its a safe play environment.   Both in the chair, and now on the bed in the morings or in her play zone (the corner where all the bouncy shiny silly singing toys are shoved),   she seems happier and absolutely is enjoying entertaining herself.   This is wonderful, I can listen to the Sex Pistols instead of the Baby Einstein Orchestra.   I get it, who wouldn’t rather be an almost-parapalegic instead of a quadrapalegic?   And she has just the other day put her feet and legs under her, sometimes, when I hold her up by the shoulder.   Times with Alana are excellent!

This will last a week.