Sam’s Story: Week 32

Not a whole lot going on this week. Sam continues to sit up and fall down, which she seems to think is wonderful. She also continues to bash things together, which will serve her well later in life. She also seems to be craving sleep more and more, and goes to bed for nap or the night without much of a fuss. She still wakes up between 6 and 7 in the morning, though, which means that weekends are no longer for sleeping in no matter how late you stayed up playing video games the night before. So we start our weekends early. The other week we went to run some errands in the morning and found that places were not yet open. Like, the childless people who ran them were still at home in bed. When did 8:00 A.M. on a Sunday morning get to be early? Look, we need to get into Costco to buy two gallons of milk and a twelve pack of watermelons, and we only have a two-hour window of opportunity between feedings!

Now, pictures. I particularly like the ones with Sam wrapped up in the terry cloth bath towel. This week’s update continues after the pictures, by the way.

Grandma Sommer left the middle of last week, but Sam had more visitors this weekend. Helen, a friend of Geralyn’s from high school came for a visit, along with her husband and two kids. It was kind of interesting to see how older kids acted. Personally, I thought they were pretty well behaved. Nothing got broken and there was only one experiment calling for a mop, in which little Will discovered the wonders of the refrigerator water dispenser. There were somersaults done in the yard and tantrums thrown over clearing one’s plate. All the stuff I expected. I’m not sure if that means I’ll be a good parent later or a terrible one, but there you go.

Sam, oddly enough, was a complete angel, spending most of the night sitting in her high chair and happily babbling to herself. Ger’s friend asked “Does she ever cry?” I assured her that she did, and I even poked Sam a few times in an effort to prove my point, but she wouldn’t cooperate.

We topped off the Labor Day weekend by taking a trip to a nearby park with an awesome lake in the middle. Along the way we met some ducks. It was pretty creepy in a Hitchcock kind of way, actually, with a group of three mallards stepping out of some bushes to block the path in front of us, quaking quietly but imperatively. Then we noticed that several more ducks had crept up behind us, cutting off retreat that way. There was something in their black little eyes that said, “Hey, yo, give us bread or we eat the kid’s feet, capisce?”

We finally had to push our way through (in stroller vs. duck, stroller wins) but the feathered beasts did manage to crap all over the sidewalk first.

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