Mine, not Jane's. She's still showing absolutely no interest in walking. She is, however, fascinated by trying to climb up the little walking stroller toy we thought would get her to stand and walk.
No, these baby steps were taken by me. At long last, I have turned in the first draft of my thesis. So if the blog posts are fewer and farther between than normal, you'll know my advisors came back with lots of revisions. I'm hoping for just two rounds of rewrites and then a defense in April so I can graduate in May. Keep your fingers crossed.
In other news, today at swimming Samson channeled his inner Aquaman and retrieved a ring from the bottom of the pool. He was also able to hold his breath under water while his teacher counted to 10. This last accomplishment, as I type it, makes it look like we send him to some Soviet-style swim gulag, but I can assure you Miss Annie is watching carefully over young Samson in the pool.
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About Me
- dada
- Call me dada. This has, in the few months since my son started "talking," become my name. I'm sure (at least I hope) it will eventually morph into something less early 20th century art movementy --- but I am marked forever as dada. And this is a good thing. I have no real advice to offer, other than always carry Cheerios and extra onesies, and I don't really have a lot of 'wacky' adventures to regale you with. Truth be told, this is as much for me as it is for you. So, uh, thanks for stopping by. I hope it's at least an interesting time-killer. And if not, consider this an ironic exercise in skewering the bourgeouis notions of 21st century American parenthood by deconstructing the materialist ethos that has turned childhood into a demographic and rendered adults simultaneous enablers and slaves. Or something.
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