"Toot," Birthdays, BB in a Ponytail

Every time I exhude whinde from my ahnus, my little 1yo BB says, "Toot," all nonchalantly. Early morning to early evening.

Yes, folks, my second and final daughter is four or so months away from turning 2.

Holy shit my birthday is Feb. 27. I'll be 31. How did that happen?

SURPRISEBIRTHDYALIST

I want the Zelda: Hyrule Historia book for my birthday, and a gift certificate to get Grand Theft Auto 5 when it comes out this spring, and a Wii U. And a practice amp for guitar and bass. And a bigger bass cabinet to play out on.

So but for my daughter, yeah she's getting like trains and puzzles and shit. Books, you know. Fun stuff. Yeah.

We have four birthdays four months in a row in this house:

February, March, April, May
Myself, Lucille, Megan, Beatrix
31, 4, 30-wouldn't-you-like-to-know, 2

And aviator sunglasses. And a nice black shirt that's made of material that's like a step up from cotton, but not quite silk. I want a shiny nice black shirt. And some black ties and a blue, red, and purple one. Flat colors, preferrably, unless there's some really sweet elegant design you could see Obama wearing.

I love my birthday time of year! The days are starting to get longer, winter's icy hold is beginning to loosen to make room for the warmth of the sun, and Neptune's Razcissor grants us all +2 Charisma (Barter, Speech skills).

Today BB let a ponytail stay in her hair for at least 20 minutes. Usually she pulls it out immediately, but I smoothly cooed, "Let it stay in," and to my surprise she did. The effect made her look older and more feminine.

Her hair right now is the biggest, curly blonde baby mop you've ever seen. It's pretty long, but isn't straight like mine or her sister's. And since she's a grubby little 1.75-yr-old, always dirty from rolling around on the floor and leaving food caked to her face and hands and everything she touches, her personality kind of becomes a grubbly little ragamuffin too, but it's offset by her sweetness. Indeed, they're interrelated: such a high-pitched small voice, innocent and pure, could only come from someone so ... liberal in their cleanliness choices.

Her face and neck and general skull shape were exposed in the ponytail. She looked so refined. Elegant, almost. The change--to me, as her father with plenty of biases towards her--was pretty extreme. She's got this beautiful face and a huge smile with deep dimples, which is cast in a completely different light depending on what her hair is doing.

Soon my ragamuffin will grow up out of this state and get cleaner, more coordinated, wiser. Sister Lucy is the mature one. The difference between them brings up images of how Lucy used to be, and how she didn't. I mean, they're the same and different.

One big difference is that Lucy is way less cautious than BB. As a toddler Lucy was always falling down and smacking her head against sidewalks and floors. It made the worst kind of thunking sound you've ever heard. BB's more hesitant and cautious. She also doesn't ever wear socks--another difference--which gives her feet better grip. 

But lately she's coming out of her shell with her body getting bigger and the daily language and motor coordination improvements.

You know what else? Lucy's going shit and piss in the big toilet now! Huzzah! Now I don't have to dump her excrement out of the little green toilet into the big one and have to wipe it out and rinse it out and wipe it out and wipe off the toilet rim and wash my hands every time she excretes!

I'm gonna study some motherfuckin Interpersonal Communication, a class taught by genius Professor Mac Parks at the University of W.