Designated Girl

Every little girl needs her B movie posters

We're moving our home office equipment out of what will become the kids' room, and that is currently where Trixie's crib and the guest bed live. One sign that we should really get going on this? Well, we decorated the room with sci-fi movie posters originally, and Trixie has started looking at them.

She refers to this one:

as "MONKEY!"

So I think it's time to swap in the cross-stitched Winnie the Pooh until she's old enough to hang and treasure sci-fi B movie posters of her own...

An update

I've decided to actually tell the family about this blog, because some important members of it live very very far away and this stuff may interest them. If you're not family, I'm not going to bother explaining the basics and you can toddle off to another site with my blessings. Oh, and P.S. to the family, I do use salty language in real life and I will be doing it here too. You all should know that by now.

So -- the Trixster has more and more words literally every day. Yesterday it was "door." And she's putting them together in sentences, like our new game of "Where's the bear?" which involves a stuffed bear and the driver's seat of a car behind which to hide. Desperation while parked produces some amazing things, no?

Tonight she said "I love you Dadda" and we both sort of melted into the floor. She will no doubt balance this by screaming later as she rejects utterly the idea that she needs to sleep. At night. Or ever.

Her love affair with "wadah!" continues apace, and enablers that we are, we took her to the Astoria Pool on Sunday where she ran under the sprinklers and splashed in the 6-inch deep end of the pool. This was particularly enjoyable for me as I sat there in the row of other pregnant mothers like a display of beached whales. It was slightly surprising to me how many of them were also watching small children. I am, apparently, not alone in my two-under-two madness.

Pause in Trixie news to say that the Passenger is doing well and kicks me a billion times an hour to make sure I don't forget it. All tests passed with flying colors as I waddle into my 29th week. Also, I am hot, swollen and cranky about this godforsaken heat wave and if I didn't have a blissfully cool office to spend 8 hours in every day I would be completely homicidal.