Giraffes

When I read a book to Lyla, she's not the least bit interested in the nuances of plot and character. All she pays attention to is when I go off script and tell her what the animals say. With this in mind, I'd have to say her favorite animal is the bird. "This is a bird, Lyla. A bird says, 'Tweet tweet!'" Lyla thinks birds are frickin' hilarious.

Then we get to the giraffe, an animal that should be eliminated from baby literature. "This is a giraffe, Lyla. They don't say anything." The only thought on her face when we get to the giraffe is, "Next!" It's like someone wrapped up a diaper and gave it to her for Christmas.

We are about to exacerbate this giraffe problem by giving Lyla the most well-reviewed teething toy on the market: Sophie the Giraffe. I expect she'll fall in love with it, and I hate to disappoint her when she gets old enough to ask me what it says.

I could lie. I could whinny like a horse but make the whinny sound taller. I could make up nonsense, take advantage of her giraffe ignorance. "Lyla, a giraffe says, 'Bliggity shmiggity!'" Then she'll squeal with glee and run off and play giraffe.

But this will cause issues once she starts kindergarten. "We think Lyla might have Tourette Syndrome," the school nurse will say.

"No," I'll reply. "She just loves giraffes."