dad's birthday

Last weekend, we celebrated Dad's not-fortieth birthday by taking a day trip to Bainbridge Island. It was a pretty big adventure for M and involved a long string of her favorite things.  Like walking to the bus stop and riding the bus.

And visiting the market for the second time in a week. This time, we didn't spend ten minutes staring at the live crabs and lobsters, but she seemed to enjoy the whirlwind tour.

 Also, there was a water fountain. We had a long conversation about this, mostly consisting of her repeating the word "water" over and over and over. If you're wondering, "water" sounds an awful like "wah," but we tend to go along with it, just to make her feel good about herself.

We rode the ferry. Mostly, we sat inside and looked out the windows at the water and boats and seagulls, because it was incredibly windy on the deck, but incredibly windy can be fun for brief periods of time. Also, it's hard to try to jump overboard when you're riding inside.

 M sampled her first pastrami and her first horseradish here-- not on the same sandwich, although they probably ended up in her mouth at the same time at some point or another...

The toy store across the street from the delicatessen was celebrating its 30th birthday, so we stopped by for a look around, a free balloon, and a photo op with some poor sucker wearing a giant Calico Critter costume. For some reason, we thought M would be delighted to meet an over-sized stuffed cat. We were wrong. On the plus side, she didn't cry. She also did not smile. At all.

Fortunately, she had a few bicycle racks to cheer her up afterwards.

And lots of leaves.

And creepy pumpkin-headed scarecrow photo props.

After our walk back to the ferry terminal, we made the return trip to Seattle and bussed it home to Ballard for burgers here and dessert here. There aren't any photos of M putting away a greasy mess of meat and cheese and pickle or discreetly spooning ice cream off of Mama's plate while nobody was looking, but those things happened, too.

It might not have been the healthiest day of eating we've undertaken lately--a good birthday celebration shouldn't be--but Dad and Mama agreed at the end of the evening that it was, in fact, A Good Day. We're pretty sure M thought so, too.

walks

Why do we have twenty million pictures of M walking around the block? Because it is her all-time, absolutely, very favoritest thing to do. Heaven help you if you utter the word "walk" without the intention to immediately take her out of the apartment. In fact, just the sight of her shoes can send her into conniptions. She doesn't care if it's raining, if it's freezing outside, or if she just came in from an hour-long walk five minutes ago. It is always time to go outside.

Walks are for finding rocks and sticks, checking on the neighbors' chickens, digging in flower beds, and dropping random tiny things through the holes of everyone's water meter covers. (Dear Water Meter People: We apologize for the countless piles of twigs, pebbles, and other pieces of accumulated debris.)

Sometimes, M suddenly stops to take a break. This usually involves yelling "sit!" and perching for no less than twenty seconds but no more than forty on a neighbor's front step. Occasionally, though, M finds other things to sit on.

Yes, she is trying to lick the tree. While hugging it.

Dandelions, large insects, crows, loud trucks, and puddles of water all require closer investigation. Especially puddles of water. Remember that little cast we're keeping "clean and dry" for the next few weeks? Yeah, right.

While Mama and Dad may feel like they've explored every inch of sidewalk within a half-mile radius of our house, M's walks are usually at least mildly entertaining. Sometimes, they give Mama a break so that dinner prep can happen without a soundtrack of hoots and howling. Other times, they give M a chance to meet other people her size. And two or three solid hours of walking in a day is always guaranteed to wear the kid out for bedtime, which, in itself, is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

arm

The funny part is, we were so sure it wasn't broken. Sure, M complained pretty loudly when she fell off the chair. She cried more than usual. Of course, "usual" is about four seconds, so that's not saying much. Then she seemed to pull herself together, had a lovely time at a little friend's birthday party and took a long walk around the neighborhood with Mama. 

By the time we noticed that she wasn't using her left arm to do anything, well, heavy, it was already edging into bedtime. We figured, if it were broken, she'd be crying, holding her arm, not letting us touch it, not using it to point at the light fixtures or hold Mama's hand. So we put her to bed and decided we'd visit Urgent Care first thing in the morning.

Apparently, things don't move too quickly in Urgent Care on a Sunday morning. We spent some quality time hanging out in the exam room, waiting to hear that our kid had sprained something in a moderate fashion.

Instead, after two (loud, terrifying, and slightly pukey) trips to radiology, the X-rays came back showing two tiny fractures in M's tiny arm. Even the doctor seemed a little surprised at how much the kid hadn't been complaining.

They sent us home with a half-naked toddler in a cute little splint and told us to come back in five days.

We spent the next week trying to keep the splint mostly clean and dry. After its debut at the hospital, the sling never saw the light of day again. M officially hates it.

And now, we're a week in with the "new" cast, which is already looking very, uh, lived in. I don't even want to think about how much it's going to smell in another two weeks when, oh please, we're hoping it comes off again. M eats her meals with a bread bag pinned around her left arm and she hasn't had a bath in an embarrassingly long time. We're doing our best with the whole "clean and dry" thing, we swear.

But let's be honest, people. M is way too busy to bother with any of that silliness.