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Olive, your bottom front tooth popped through today: historical! Your second tooth isn’t far behind: logical! You were in pain: understandable! We gave you tylenol: magical! You still would not go to sleep: diabolical! We walked you up and down several flight of stairs, thrice: metabolical! You fell asleep: beautiful! Good night, Olive.
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So Miss Olive, mom bought you this onesie before you were born but only recently have you grown into it. It says “assistant” and there’s a camera outlined with some light blue stitching. Its cute, and you look great in it. But mommy and I both agree that you can’t be our assistant. You are too busy in your current job… “the boss of us”.
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Olive, you love movement (walking in the ergo, watching fans spin), music (Edith Piaf, Queen, not Daft Punk for some reason… but that will change), city walla (cable cars, tourists unison-screaming “wooooooooo!” on said cable cars, the chat-hum of other restaurant patrons, dishes clinking in the kitchen, even distant sirens).
You love bustle, and you love to go.
However, you do not like to stop.
If, for instance, you are sleeping lightly while daddy walks you around in the ergo, and daddy stops… the countdown commences. In 10 seconds or less you transform into a shrieking velociraptor.
The same thing happens in the car. You love the hum of the road, the movement through the window, aka your “TV”. But if the motion on the TV stops, you seem to believe the TV is broken. Which you seem to find unnaceptable. At which point…
Velociraptor.
Thanks to Ashley for so beautifully documenting this transformation as she rode in the backseat with you and mommy yesterday. I don’t remember, but I’m guessing this transformation took place in about 5 seconds flat.
You know when you’re cool, Olive? Freeways.
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Olive, your first Christmas is in the books. You were a hit. Daddy, mommy, Emma, J & T all piled into the car with you, and mom drove us to Marin. You slept. Emma rode shotgun. T sat on daddy’s lap in the back. When we got there, you woke up but you were pretty sleepy and a little hungry, so mom fed you. Then you and mom sat in Grandpa’s chair as the gifting ensued. It was chaos, but mommy just held you and you took it all in. When the sprint was over, you fell back asleep.
Since the light was still good, we walked down the street to shoot Emma (with cameras). The light was pretty stunning, so we went back to the house and grabbed aunt Kate and her friend, walked them back to where we’d shot Emma, and then shot them all together (pictured). T shot them too, on her fancy new digital camera.
The entire time, you were in the carrier with mommy, asleep while she directed and shot her first roll of motion picture film on her Nikon F100.
You are such a chill baby.
As you might have expected, you received no Christmas gifts. Maybe next time.
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The doctor says you need to do belly time every day to strengthen your neck. The thing is… your neck is strong. Your legs are strong. Your core is strong. You’re basically fierce. In this photo you’re looking at me and thinking “this whole belly thing is straight remedial, dad. Just look at my leggings!”
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This is you asleep on me this morning. Dave at Photoworks told your mom and I yesterday that we appear to live in a Dwell magazine spread. I responded that I would shoot what’s in the diaper genie and that he could dwell on that for a while.
Also, on the not-so-idyllic front, you woke up your usual 2-3 times last night, although you did sleep straight through to 3:30am, which is some sort of record.
Once you wake up for good, you enter an eat-sleep-poop cycle. Thats when this was taken. As you can see, you were sleeping. And possibly pooping.
