What’s up with that baby?

I haven’t spent a lot of time writing about my daughter here. It’s been a little over a year since the last time, I think. Which means she’s a little over a year old now.

Why is that, I wonder? I have an inherent caution about spamming the internet with pictures and notes about my baby. A recent photo and her birth date is enough information for a clever criminal mind to wreak a little havoc. Over time we tend to leak out little bits of this-and-that which accumulate in the repositories of evil out there, until we slip up and share something utterly innocuous by itself, but coupled with everything else we’ve given over the keys to her identity. And she’s barely a toddler!

It makes me a bit nervous, really. I think a degree of paranoia is probably normal, maybe even healthy as it keeps us on our toes.

So, I don’t talk much about her. That is a bit of a slap on the face of this blog, which is geared towards a work-from-home dad. Even as I’m typing this I can hear her puttering around. She started walking at about 11 months, and she babbles and shouts and makes me giggle at random times throughout the day.

That’s good for a laugh when I’m on the phone with someone across the country trying to fix something or other, or talk through a series of upcoming changes – anything really. And I giggle.

Gnaw-gnaw really likes to go outside since the weather has been so lovely. She’s an early-riser like her dad, and time-permitting we’ll go out on the stoop and watch the morning get started. She’s not one for sitting and waiting, however; it’s all about marching down to the fireplug on the corner and telling all the neighbors she’s awake at the top of her lungs. Yes, at six o’clock in the am.

I laugh because I’ve been awake for a half hour already and am deep into my coffee. I can just barely hear a disembodied voice say, “oh, goddammit… shut up, kid; I was sleeping.”

Could be the guy across the street. Could have been Gnaw-gnaw’s mother.