On the Metro, heading to the National Zoo
Making friends wherever she goes (human and animal)
She was very interested in the dinosaur, even when there were big cats right over her shoulder
There weren’t many perfect photo ops, but this was one of them.
Wow, we were social butterflies this weekend. Friday night we hosted Dan and Elena for an evening of food, brewing, and storytelling on the front lawn. Dan got a batch of saison in the can to ferment in our basement (the climate is much friendlier to beer down there). Saturday afternoon Finn stayed awake through naptime to attend a birthday party across town, where swings were swung, bubbles were blown, capes were worn, and laughter was had. When we got home she stayed awake with Mama while I brewed my beer—a partial mash recipe which took longer than a standard extract kit. I chilled it a little too cold so it had to sit overnight to warm up before adding yeast, but the starting gravity is within .002% of where it should be.
Sunday we drove up to my boss’ house for a pool party with the whole office, where the adults may well have been outnumbered by the kids. The water was 85° so Finn was happy to get in, and within about 30 minutes she was paddling around by herself. I was lucky enough to win one of several games and walked away with $50, which was a happy surprise. At 2:30 we scooped Finn out of the pool and headed home, where she crashed out until 5:30. Our neighbors invited us over for dinner, so while Mama was out shopping Finn and I walked down the street and played until almost 10PM. When Jen and I headed back upstairs for the evening, Finn’s light was shining under the door, and this is what we found after tiptoeing inside:
Mom and Renie packed us up for the trip home with two boxes of books from the family archives. Richard Scarry is heavily represented, as is Dr. Seuss and much of the pre 1970 Little Golden Book catalogue. We have some of the Seuss and Scarry already, but it was great to read some old favorites to Finn- If I Had A Circus was a big hit the other night.
* * *
Taking advantage of the singular day of 80° weather, we walked her down to the ice cream store last night and indulged in some cool refreshment. I think Jen and I had the same feeling at about the same time—the weather was perfect, the ice cream was delicious, the smell of Old Bay and fresh cut grass wafted over us, and Finn happily spooned her italian ice in between us; life was good.
This weekend I took Finn to the pool twice. Once on Saturday, preceded by crying and pleading and tears; the second time on Sunday by happy giggles. She’s been traumatized, I think, by Mrs. J, her swim teacher, who comes from the throw-em-in-the-pool-and-let-Darwin-sort-it-out school, and who has little time for Finn’s method of learning things: slow, steady increments of progress. I forsee that trying to teach Finn something she doesn’t like will be a long, slow process and teaching her something she does like will be impossible to tear her away from—in short, she’s her father’s child. I just hope she takes to math better than I did.
Once I’d gotten her in the pool (after a car ride marked by nonstop reassurances) and on a float, she was a giggling, happy tadpole with crazy legs that didn’t stop moving. She was having so much fun, in fact, that when we bumped up against our time limit, I had to promise her I’d bring her back to get her out of the pool.
Sunday was much easier. She vibrated with excitement as we put her swimsuit on, and skipped as we walked through the parking lot. And then, as we opened the door to the pool, she saw Mrs. J, who was leading a completely unrelated class for older handicapped adults, and she shrieked in terror. I held her close and explained that we were going to swim by ourselves, that I would be with her, and that calmed her down. Once we were in the pool, she was the same tadpole I swam with on Saturday. I spent about thirty seconds holding her hand, and the rest of the time she paddled and kicked around the shallow end by herself, making friends and having a great time. She even stuck her head in the water and blew bubbles.
Sunday evening, after dinner, we walked down the street for some ice cream to celebrate. Returning home, we walked out back to put our lawn tools away, and when that was done Jen and I sat under the big maple tree to watch her catch fireflies as dusk fell, past her bedtime.
Early this morning, while I was buried deep in REM sleep, Jen nudged me awake to face Finn, who was standing next to the bed complaining of a nightmare. I followed her back into her room and brushed aside the fog enough to understand she wasn’t going to go back to sleep easily, so I grabbed my pillow and smushed in next to her. In no time we were both out cold.
This morning, as we both stirred, I opened my eyes to find her looking at me. She broke into a big smile and whispered, “I love you, daddy!” and gave me a hug. That made the rest of the day very easy.
