Fashion girl

Arya has her own style.

On the left, we see her modelling her daddy's Rosetta Stone tie.

To the right, she proves that fezes really are cool. The best bit is that she put the fez on herself, having apparently come around to the hat way of thinking.

She is also getting closer and closer to walking, and loves to toddle around the house with an adult's hand for support. Of course, we're all tall, so it's murder on the spine, but she is so adorable. Pictures will follow when we are in a position to take some.

Ramblin' Gal

We are so close now to the walking stage that it's frightening.

Arya can stand for almost thirty seconds unaided, and with support can move along at a pretty bipedal clip. Andrew and I took her to the Botanical Gardens on Monday, where she had a weird dominance match with another baby, squeezed Capri-Sun at us in the apparent hope of creating an amusing crotch stain, and then decided that she wanted to push the push-chair.

So, Andrew held her at the right height to grip the bar, the usual means, but that wasn't cutting it. No; this time, she wanted to push.


Here she is, with a good grip on the bar. Now, the bar doesn't lock at that height, so muggins there is holding it up, although in her determination to do things her way, Arya did occasionally try to push my hands away if I looked too much like I was trying to control the movement of the push-chair.

And then she started walking.


I had to go alongside, bent double to hold the handle up (and I say 'I', but my back rapidly gave up the ghost, so Andrew did the lion's share of that work), but she was going for it at a heck of a pace, and with little sign of flagging after a good five minute stretch.

On the way back, she took a pen and scribbled on a card (she holds a pen like a good un; chip off the old block). Then she kissed the card and said 'Mamama', so I took it to be a card for her Mum.