Because Celeste asked....

If you have tuned in here for my political thoughts and musings, or to hear which shows I recommend you watch, I cannot help you. (Though for the record, did you see Glee? So fantastic!) For the next several posts, this blog will be nothing but pictures of my daughter. Deal with it.

Here is Lila in her "Aging Hollywood starlet" headband, and a shirt that says "I want lots of kisses," because well, she does. She doesn't have much going on in the hair department, so we like to make her wear bows and headbands whenever possible. She is extremely mellow and good natured, which is like raising an alien for Amy and I. We find ourselves asking "Why doesn't she scream for hours every night?" and "How come after she is done eating, she just drifts happily back to sleep without incessant rocking and bouncing?" I used to believe "good" babies were a myth, like the loch ness monster or Tyra Banks, but she is indeed a good baby.

Jonah and Noel actually seem to like her. Scratch that...Jonah likes her. Noel tolerates her. He is curious where she is most of the time, like she might be playing the Wii without his permission or something. But if she cries he leaves the room and closes the door. We don't judge, because who doesn't want to do that? But really, Jonah and Noel are old news. Back to Lila!!

She is super peanut-y. As in, she sleeps curled up in a scrunchy little ball, like a peanut. Don't believe me? Here she is again:
When you put her on your shoulder to burp here, it is like burping an roll of socks. C'mon! How cute is that peanut!

She is also long and skinny. Like this:
In this photo, she is trying to nurse my hand, which for the record, did not work. She was mad and hungry and naked, and we were busy taking pictures instead of dressing her and feeding her. It was for our "Parents of the Year" application. She was happier later in a soft cuddly gown.
And speaking of parents of the year, Jonah broke his elbow.
He fell off the trampoline. And cried a lot. And I told him to suck it up. And then he kept crying, so we took him to urgent care where they x-rayed him and said he was fine. And so I spent the whole next day trying to convince him to just move his arm because it would feel better if he moved it around and played with it, even though he insisted it still hurt. And then the urgent care called back later that day to say that they had re-looked at his films and his arm was broken and we needed to bring him in to get it splinted. And I felt bad for being such a Jerk Dad. But really - who are these doctors who go to years of medical school and then go to work in the urgent care? Are they real doctors? Or did they get their degree from that school Sally Struthers hocks on TV? ("You can major in business management, or in accounting.") So maybe I shouldn't blame me, but should blame the hack doctors.

That's all for tonight. Stay tuned...we went shopping today so we have some new outfits we need pictures of.