Lilobites

Our Siena Word of the Day is "Lilobites." This has nothing to do with your hard drive or a Cambrian-era arthropod (and if you laughed at that, then you need to turn off The Discovery Channel and go for a jog).

Lilobites is a word Siena repeats three times a day: at every meal.

Whether it's cereal, veggie corn-dogs, or penne arrabiata, she crams as much onto her eating utensil, unhinges her jaw, and shoves in as the maximum amount of food per bite. Some of you are speculating where my daughter picked up this habit, and you may keep your speculation to yourselves.

Anyway, we have taught Siena to take little bites rather than big ones. And we have at least partially succeeded. Whenever she tries to take one of these lumberjack-sized helpings, we admonish her by asking her what kind of bites she should take. And our bright little toddler dutifully responds, "Lilobites." And then she crams in the whole forkful.

She doesn't always act the gourmand, though. At times she'll pause before lifting her fork of stir-fry and say "Lilobites," and actually pick up a modest amount. She just has a difficulty with self-restraint. For someone's who's two-and-a-quarter, that seems entirely forgiveable.

Kiss My Ass

The longer the delay between posts, the greater the pressure to come up with a new post that's worth the wait. But then you reach a point where the delay's so long that you just upchuck onto the keyboard, desperate for anything to silence the lambs and reset your Says Since Last Post number. We have reached that point.

Siena has recently become convinced of the curative powers of the kiss, particularly Daddy's. She'll skin her knee or bump her elbow, and race to Daddy (evidently unhindered by whatever injury she's sustained) screaming "Kiss it! Kiss it!" Actually, she screams "Kith it! Kith it!" but you get the point. And so Daddy lays on lips, and Siena immediately feels better--though she may still need a Dora Band-Aid, but that's for another post.

Silly and childish, yes. But Daddy was happy to oblige. Until yesterday morning.

Siena was running through the house, as is her wont, when her feet got out from under her and she fell on her behind. Without waiting for cues from adults as to the severity of her injury, she began crying immediately. Daddy happened to arrive first on the scene and scooped up his baby, confirming that she was fine. But that didn't stop Siena:

"Kith it! Kith it!"

By now, not only did Mama know the locus of Siena's injury, but so did her parents, in town for the rest of the month. Already thoroughly entertained by what they'd seen so far this week, they couldn't wait to see where this was going.

So now, rather than let my daughter become distraught over Daddy denying needed medical aid, I rolled this squirming little piglet over as best I could in my arms and, yes, kissed her ass. In front of my wife. And my in-laws.

At least Siena felt better.