This weekend was very manly. Lock gave out in the door, so I had to modify the socket to hold a new one. Baby made our landlord install window guards, so we had to rearrange the bedroom to accommodate the air conditioner this year. Modem gave out on my crap-ass Dell machine, and I reseated the card to no result because I was sure that's the first thing they'd tell me to do. All very Tooltime, with drills and lifting and heavy duty extension cords involved.
In the process of all this hyper-activity, I discovered a nefarious plot to breed ice age dust bunnies under our bed. Nearly lost a toe to one of these atavistic menaces. Whoever is responsible for this dread scheme should be stopped.
Nunnle and Op-O-Zit. They are real words. One is baby-lonian for that thing on the playground climbing equipment that she can crawl through all by herself. The other is a eerily accurate parrot of the word opposite gleaned from her board book spectatorship. Calliope is really making an effort to copy new words that she hears. She talks a lot, often to herself when we are busy. She will recite "Doe-Gee." Over and over to herself on errands. "Doe-Gee, Doe-Gee, Doe-Gee." As if relishing the comradeship that ensues when she meets a new doggie. When she says "W," it sounds as if she is drowning in static, coming out something like dubba-blikt. I expect her to be a walking encyclopedia by summer's end.
I will miss her cheerful bickle-backle, which still comes through in dogged attempts to communicate things neither of us are really able to understand. The best bickle backle seems to copy the form and syntax of English, with no connection to actual words, making it sound like mirror-universe speak.
She is also very much a Cheery-Head lately.
Somebody named Mowgli signed up to use a computer today.