Baby-cue

Still laying claim to my glasses.

This weekend, I had the whole family over from Martlesham. Alas, it was a very weary weekend, with Hanna and I both having worked extra time during the week.

Still, it was not a dead loss, and on Saturday we went out to TumbleTots, Arya's baby gym class, where she was much more confident and comfortable than in the induction, tumbling over apparatus and not spooking when another child took her shoulders to travel from one piece to the next. Afterwards we went to Ely and bought a barbecue and stuff to cook on it, so that was our evening.

She slipped on the wet bars last
time, so it was good to see her still
daring the ladders.

On Sunday we went swimming, then home for pancakes, out to the playground and back for dinner. At the playground Arya was feeling experimental and slightly ornery, at one point ordering me away as Daddy Andrew was helping her.

Best game ever!

"Should I go home then?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. I began to leave, and a moment later heard behind me: "Daddyyyy!" so I don't think she meant it.

She tried a lot of different equipment, but the real hit this time out was the wooden ramp leading up to the zip line, which she went up and down four or six times, alternating daddies to hold her hand.

Astute readers will have noted the theme of extreme tiredness lately. I blame this on the fact that Arya is essentially adjusting to a pattern which doesn't involve regular naps. This leaves her very tired at bedtime, but also very irritable, and prone to complaining about whoever puts her to bed, and probably kicking them a lot without really meaning to.

We didn't get a clear shot, but this is Arya
in her Anna from Frozen dress and a chain
shirt that Andrew made for her.

"Arya; I love you very much, but if you kick me in the head again, I'm going to sit at the end of the bed instead of cuddling you."

Kick.

"Okay." Sits up.

Beat.

"Daddyyy!"

Oh, and I feel like a bad dad for twice allowing her to have an ice cream as long as her arm.