Monday, July 7, 2014

If I kept a sleep training journal for my dear, grumpy girl, I think it would read something like the first Jurassic Park book: a brief period of monster taming, followed by an even briefer period of presumed success lulling the tamer into a sense of false confidence, which is thereafter succinctly abolished by a terror greater than ever before. The other day I was contemplating what wonders I might accomplish (wonders like cookies and grown up TV) when I don't find it necessary to nap every day, and then Ammi, horticulturalist extraordinaire, decided to nip that fantasy right in the bud. Two nights this week, she and we have welcomed every hour of the night with open eyes, and her days are spent languishing in relative misery. We are assuming the problem is her first year molars. This knowledge has made it no less painful for any of us, though it does so soften the heart to see your baby inconsolable.

The teething situation, coupled with recent visitors (Jean and Bonnie) and visits (Chicago and Cincinnati), means I'm one event behind on pictures. I have patriotic pictures from two days ago, and I have Shedd Aquarium pictures from several weeks ago.

Right when the boys got home from the fireworks shop (Kroger), Joash saw a neighbor dog. He wanted me to take a picture of it. I took a picture of him instead.

Let the incredibly mild fireworks display begin. We just got a short stack, sparklers, and poppers. Kroger was all out of snakes.

He loved the sparklers! And he would still love them to this day if not for parent error. We forgot to give him explicit instruction regarding extinguished flames, and he touched the hot burnt end right after the fire went out. After that, he wouldn't even tolerate the little nips from the sparks. Poor guy.


Dan was being really cool and snapping the poppers. Ammi's saying what we're all thinking.

Dan diverted Joash to the poppers, and Joash could not have been more pleased.

In action.

Readying his ammo for stomping.

And thus became a brother of a boy. My brother used to torture me with poppers. He would tape them to the sliding door of our bathroom after I had gone to bed so that they would explode when I'd get up to pee in the middle of the night, a tale I recount every Independence Day. Sorry in advance, dear Ammi.

This was our three gun finale.

Regardless, Ammi was into it.

In action.
  The rest are from our time at Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. Joash really wanted to be captain of this submarine, but there was an insubordinate uprising.

Ammi and Grandma standing by.

He asked to see the dolphins the whole time we were there. We weren't sure there would actually be dolphins outside of a dolphin show, which we weren't going to attend. We convinced him this beluga whale was a dolphin, and by the time we got to the actual dolphins just around the corner, he had lost interest.

Checking out the tidal pool.

Jeweled anemone, blurry because of Ammi's interest in the camera.

Requisite pictures in the bean.

Joash really started to feel the stress of his upset schedule and he required a timeout in the midst of a bovinical revelry, courtesy of Chick-fil-a.

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