51% brains, 25% cutonium, 24% stubbornium.
Loves butterflies, Hello Kitty, dogs, her stuffed bear, milk, spinning on swings, drawing, and a million other things.
Hates peanut butter, bedtime, and getting her hair brushed.
Will not accept anyone telling her “you can’t do that”.
Accepts only two possible ways of doing things: her way and the wrong way.
Is one of my two greatest accomplishments in this life.
Turns five years old today.
Happy birthday, little girl. It’s your world out there, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
Playing with the Hipstamatic app on the iPhone.
She just showed up in the living room like that and said, “Look! I’m Saturn!”
A little while ago, Lyra toddled off to the back of the house. She came back a few minutes later and announced that she had her own office now. I went to investigate and found this setup:
“See, Daddy? It’s just like your office.”
Back in October, my friend Oleg was up at Castle Frostbite for a visit. He took a bunch of pictures for a super-secret project, and a bunch more for the family album. I just got a DVD in the mail with the photographic take of the day, and thought I’d share some shots.
(All photos courtesy of Oleg Volk.)
Wringing out Oleg’s suppressed Walther P22 with green Viridian laser.
Traipsing through the woods with my first and favorite rifle ever, a chopped-down No.4 “Tanker” Enfield.
The kids, assembling their List of Demands for Santa.
The Lord and Lady of the manor.
Lyra, three and a half.
Here’s a snapshot from our vacation I rather like. I call it “Little Girl, Big Ocean.”
Here’s Lyra’s pick for last night’s bedtime story:
What could possess a three-year-old to pick such heady material?
- She’s genuinely interested in 500-page treatises on aesthetics.
- She finds Plato boring and chose this book to put her to sleep faster.
- She thinks that Daddy will take the bait, and read a bedtime story for twelve hours, thereby delaying bedtime.
- She likes the rainbow on the cover.
Right now, I’m leaning toward option 4, but knowing my (already clever and devious) girl child, I have a sneaking suspicion that option 3 may also be a contender.
Here’s the brand new three-year-old and her vaguely Winnie the Pooh-shaped birthday cake:
Cake and milk for the kids, Scotch and assorted brews for the adults, barbecue chicken and baked beans for all. Great success!
Now to start the post-party ritual of the Washing of the Dishes…
A certain little girl is three years old today. To commemorate the anniversary of her express delivery thirty-six months ago today, we will spend the day with the rituals of Awarding of the Presents, Making A Big Hullabaloo About The Birthday Girl, and the Demolishing Of The Bear-Shaped Birthday Cake.
At three years of age, Lyra has a very distinctive personality. She’s pure Cutonium with a core of condensed Stubbornium. She loves Winnie-the-Pooh, cereal with marshmallows, and being launched on parabolic trajectories in the room with the high ceiling. She loves her big brother, her Mommy and Daddy, and her doggies.
I tried to take a picture of the newly minted three-year-old this morning, but she wouldn’t stand still long enough for a decent shot. (A picture of motion-blurred Lyra would be a good representation of her current physical state most of the time.) I’ll snap some pictures later, when she’ll have to be in one spot for a few seconds to unwrap her presents and have a bite of birthday cake.
Happy Birthday, little girl. We’re all very glad you joined the gang.