The Squisht Brain

Since Clara's been growing like a weed, Katie decided that this was the week to dress her up in her full set of springful (springy, springish?) attire. To top it all off, she initiated our little sprout into the ranks of the BrainSquisher™. Sure, she looks cute, what with the color of the flower matching her dress and other subtle aesthetic details, but I have concerns. Not with respect to the squishing of her noggin, but it's a slippery slope; first it's one flower, then two, then the next thing you have is:



Yet another garden to maintain...

In other news, Grandma Jean (that sounds quite weird to my ears) came up this past weekend for a little escapade. I snapped this picture shortly after Clara surprised us all by walking across the kitchen, climbing up onto my mother's lap, and sitting down on the table. Unfortunately, technical difficulties prevented me from capturing the entire event, but I think you would agree that the shot that follows could only have been preceded by such an occurrence.



To conclude: a picture of Clara trying to pull her head into her dress like a turtle.

Trip to the Northern Regions.

Last weekend, we went to Canada to visit Katie's family, since her grandparents were visiting from the more cowboyish lands out West and all of her siblings were making the pilgrimage home. Here are a few of the trip highlights:


Clara's best approximation of the kangaroo lifestyle.


Nonchalantly demonstrating the fashion value of souvenir ice cream bowls.


Spreading the gospel of the swaddle.


Pretending to sleep in this shot of four generations of Leavitt women.


"And you said you last checked her diaper when?"


Dispensing wisdom to Alison and Warren.


Hanging out with her other wee cousins but having eyes only for her favorite...digital camera.


Spending quality time with Heather on a Canadian yoga ball (it has jelly filling).


Do I see a future ESPN commentator?


(glamour shot)


Animal crackers 1, hot dog 0.


Lincoln park after dark (my toes were feeling modest).


Little fuzzy happy baby.

Animal Impressions, Part 1.

Clara's updated koala bear impersonation:



Frankly, it has gotten to the point that I may have to start shopping for eucalyptus at the grocery store - and Katie says that Halls cough drops are not an option. We're now working on impressions from other animals from down under - I'm hoping to persuade her to do a tasmanian devil before long.

Here's her impression of a happy baby:

Straight out of the 18th century.

I'll bet you didn't know that they had microfiber couches back then.

The neverending nap, or a sudden spate of sleeping.

Katie and Clara have recently taken up a new hobby: napping. Rather than initially dabble such as one often does when becoming acquainted with a new pastime such as knitting or welding, they have jumped in whole hog, as it were, and are practicing their newfound skills at every chance. Our house is thus a veritable zone of zzzz, as you can see from the following pictures.





Not one to let up for a minute, however, Clara maintains her empowered and enlightened attitude towards all oppression, unrighteousness, &c., &c., even while slumbering in her slight and snuffly way, as is embodied in this last, rather cute, picture.

Fashion trendsetting.

Clara has been dazzling us with her fashion choices as of late, and has been ruthless in developing a dynamic personal style all her own. In the outfit in this picture, she is going for a juxtaposition of the lighthearted goofiness of her polka-dot clown pants with the tough streetwise demeanor of her tank top (otherwise known by the off-color moniker "wife-beater"). Quite bold, really.

The marvel of this outfit, of course, is that such a style fits easily into nearly any era of history. To whit:

or



Remarkable, no? She apparently inherited her father's nearly boundless gift for fashion sensibility, and then some - this little lady doubtlessly has a bright future in Milan.

Hip-hop debut.

Katie and I were a little bit surprised when Clara started
with the phat stylin' and whatnot, but perhaps this is just
evidence that musical taste is genetically programmed.

We already told her that we're drawing the line at gold
chains, though. She whimpered and cried a little when she
heard this, but I think that she knows it's for the best.