The ways of the ninja

First, two quick things. Last night I come home from work, and because the little scream machine has been fraying Ann's nerves all day, I take her upstairs to change her so that Ann can mainline some tequila or something. Anyway, I get the squirt on the changing table and say "You remember Daddy, don't you? Are you happy to see Daddy?"... and no sooner have the words left my mouth when the little angel scrunches up her face and lets out a mighty fart. Yep, she's my daughter.

Second, later that night I was feeding her when she suddenly, with no prompting whatsoever, let loose with a literal geyser of spit-up. Oh, she's puked plenty of times and gotten our carpets and couch more than once, but in the past it's always been (relatively) constrained... a bit of distance, sure, but no world records. But I kid you not that for a brief moment, it looked like Old Faithful. A fountain of spew erupted out of this tiny creature, soaking my shirt and pants but also hitting Ann, who was sitting a good three feet away and probably thought she was in the safe zone. Nope, apparently my daughter is like those dolphin shows at Sea World: first three rows may get wet.

Anyway, I've always been a night owl. As a kid I used to stay up past my bedtime reading books by flashlight (yes, I was a nerd); these days it more often takes the form of playing video games or working on reviews far past the time more sensible people have gone to bed. It's not at all uncommon for 1:00 AM to find me just getting changed and taking out my contacts for bed. This has taught me to be fairly silent over the years, to avoid waking up parents, roommates, and Ann with my nocturnal ways. But I tell you, now that there's a baby in the house, it's an entirely different level of stealth. Creaking floors, bumping into furniture, squeaky hinges... these are my sworn enemies, to be avoided at all costs. I was always quiet, but forget about it- in the old days, the worst that could happen would be I'd awaken Ann crawling into bed and have a slightly grumpy wife to contend with. Now there's a gently slumbering infant ready to awaken and cry her head off at the slightest noise, and unlike Ann, she doesn't roll over and go back to sleep after complaining to me for a minute. It's like living in a library filled with land mines. But I'm learning quickly, and soon I'll be confident in my ability to infiltrate high level government buildings and art galleries with nary a sound. So if you've been looking for someone to enter the home of your rival crime lord and leave him a message while he sleeps, hey... got you covered.