Family Matters

My brother has a 10-month-old daughter. That would be my niece, for those of you who have trouble with family relationships. She is generally a very cheery and personable child, but, like all babies, she occasionally needs to be distracted--while she's being fed, so she won't notice yet another spoonful of unappetizing-looking goo being shoved in her face; when anyone is trying to take a picture, so she's looking at the camera; anytime she crashes to the floor and her face starts to crumple in preparation for wailing . . . you know.

It turns out that I seem to have a particular talent for creating those distractions, despite having no children of my own and very little experience with the wee ones. On this trip to Arizona I became Court Jester for the baby. She's eating and needs to be distracted? Here comes Aunt Kristin to make a wooden spoon dance on her tray just out of her reach! Someone needs to make the baby focus in the general direction of the camera for a photo session? Quick, Aunt Kristin, grab a prop (I used a feather boa) and get her attention! She's getting bored and cranky? DANCE, AUNT MONKEY, DANCE.

And so I came to be known as Aunt Monkey, an appellation that I fear will stick for the rest of my life, knowing my family.

Of course, my position behind the camera, waving feather boas and making an idiot of myself for the kid, means that there are not many photos of the baby and me together. In fact, this may be the only one:

Aunt Monkey pushing the swing, for Her Royal Poopiness must be entertained.

Of course, this child lives 3,000 miles away, which means my talents will not be put to use very often. I'm thinking of hiring myself out at a nominal rate for parents who could use a little child wrangling help. You know, just to stay in practice. They can't call me Aunt Monkey, though.

And because I know that a picture of a human baby won't be enough for you people . . .

Playtime in the puppy pen

No picture of the lamb today, but not for lack of trying. It was really dark and stormy yesterday and I couldn't get close enough to it to get a well-lit photo. Then, when I did get close enough to it after we shut it in the barn, the batteries in the camera were dead. So I went back to the house, got new batteries, trudged back out to the barn (IN THE RAIN), and . . . those batteries were dead too. Sonofabitch.

So, no lamb photo. I'll try again today.