What's In a Name?
Here she is again. My heart is melting. I rarely ever call her by her given name - except when I am using my big-grown-up-Mommy voice, of course. When I use my reverting-back-to-childhood voice, I find myself speaking in code. Words that I have never used on anyone else. Phrases that have never been breathed on earth are suddenly commonplace. Four years of college and four years of teaching and I never studied this vocabulary list. What is wrong with our education system?
When she makes faces like this I can address her in relatively sane terms. Sweetheart. Darling. Cutie.
When she looks like this, she becomes Milk Face. That's her daddy in the background, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops. I call him Milk Face, Sr.
When she makes this face she earns herself my favorite name for her. Punk-a-doodles. Even better - My Little Punk-a-doodles! I made it up....I'm gifted like that.
(P.S. Have you ever noticed how hard it is to take a good picture while holding a squirming child? I knew you'd understand.)
This is her sorta-kinda-maybe-starting-to-get-worried face. This is where I start snapping my fingers and blowing bubbles and generally making a fool of myself in an effort to extract the last smile that I know is cowering somewhere in one of her chins. I call her Little One.
This face is self-descriptive. I say Uh-oh!!!!
She really is a one-smile-per-photo-shoot kind of baby. Daddy calls her Fussy-Butt. I call her Milk Monster.
But then she does something like this.......
Or this.....
Ooops - time to go. She is rapidly descending through the faces and is somewhere between Uh-oh and Fussy-Butt. Ciao!
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