Not now Dad. I'm Thinking....

Over the last year many things have confirmed for me the power of genetics. Squeaker is tall. Squeaker has brown eyes like her father.  Squeaker doesn't seem that coordinated when she walks.  Squeaker isn't a morning person.  Squeaker has a prodigious appetite.  Squeaker likes the outdoors, even when it is cold.  Squeaker loves books.  Squeaker takes reading material with her to the bathroom, well the changing pad anyway.  In this last case, it isn't that she takes after her parents.  However, certain of her other relatives, not to name names, but her paternal grandfather does come to mind, have been known to take reading material with them, indeed to have many years worth of the Atlantic, pre-positioned, at their disposal, as they say.  Hopefully when she's old enough to read these posts, she'll forgive me for the second picture, but when we go in to take care of a diaper, she grabs her book, I'm sorry, her libro, and tries to be helpful.  We almost made the "man bites dog" segment of the evening news today.  Since she learned to crawl, Squeaker has enjoyed shutting doors.  She was playing on the floor after breakfast this morning when our dog wanted out.  I went to the door and slipped outside to put the dog on its leash so it could do its business outside.  Squeaker crawled over with me and when I was just outside the door, she tried to shut it.  I managed to stop her just before she locked me out of the house.  I noticed this evening that she's now just tall enough to reach the door knob.  She seems to know what to do with it, but she's tall enough to get a grip yet.  I we can put off her locking me out a few more weeks, she'll be able to let me back in herself.  See you next week Squeaker fans.