Lydia Log: Day 98

Little miss is just over three months old now, and is barreling through life towards an ungodly expensive university education like a tiny white female version of that Jamaican sprinter guy, who can't walk yet. Or speak. Although last week she laughed out loud for the first time, and it was pretty much the coolest thing that has happened to me since the first time I did things that I probably shouldn't talk about on a public blog.

She wakes up happy in the mornings and gets progressively more tired as the day rolls on - napping periodically - until she is put to bed, begrudgingly falling asleep around 8:00. She seems to enjoy warm baths (she is part fish I say), the mobile over her crib, being carried around the house to stare at bright colourful things, having her legs worked as if she were running or riding a bike, sneezing (always followed by a smile), and spitting up on people's shoulders. This last one has been happening consistently for, well, three months now and I still haven't learned my lesson; I often look as if my ears are bleeding partially digested milk.

As one would expect, she is getting stronger all the time and is now able to kind of pull herself into a sitting-up position, provided you are holding her hands... and pulling (see here). On her belly, she is a champion head-lifter and is this close to doing the worm when she really gets going. Based on her current strengths, her probable future professions include: breakdancer, Olympic runner or cyclist or swimmer, art critic, or professional vomiter. So long as she's not an engineer or a stripper, Dad will be happy.