Standing

Earlier today I walked in on a child who isn't supposed to know how to pull herself to a standing position. Wasn't I just saying that Lyla practices new tricks in her crib, only to exploit them at her leisure? Well, I caught her red-handed this time. It was like I was a Shawshank prison guard stumbling upon Andy Dufresne digging away behind that Rita Hayworth poster.

After the crib incident, Lyla practiced standing in all sorts of unsafe locations. I wove my hands around her torso, ready to tighten my grip should her hands slip on, say, the brick fireplace. I'm thankful she doesn't have any teeth yet since it means she can't knock any out. But maybe it's just a matter of time since she moves with such determination, devoid of caution and common sense. I hope she doesn't grow up to be Hannah Montana's stunt double.

I also pulled her out of Tulip's cage today. She was sitting outside the cages, swinging the doors so happily that I thought I had 30 seconds to go wash her boogers off my hand. Well, thank goodness we're not famous, or the paparazzi would have surely snapped a damning photograph and sold it to the tabloids: Baby Lyla Kept in Cage While Dogs Lounge on Sofas!

Some time has passed since I typed that last sentence. It's an hour past Lyla's bedtime, and Julie walked into the nursery to find a fussy Lyla standing again. Julie aptly observed that once Lyla's standing in the crib, she's basically stuck, not really knowing how to lie down again.

More time has passed. Lyla's down again, hopefully for good. When Julie picked her up, Lyla's head immediately dropped to Julie's shoulder, thumb in mouth. I feel for the kid: how do you sleep when there's so much to do?