"Daddy… Daddy… Daddy… Daddy…"

Date October 31, 2007

For reasons that are unclear to me, Julie took Carson to school this afternoon rather than having him ride the bus. 20 minutes round trip. She left Alana playing in her room, which she will do quietly for an hour easily.

Her room is directly over my office.

It’s not uncommon to hear things thumping around as she rearranges various toys.

Today, though, I heard something different. It was a quiet, steady, almost melodic, “Daddy!” repeated every five seconds or so. It was sufficiently subtle that I have no idea how long she’d been saying it. But, she clearly was not in any sort of pain or distress.

I headed upstairs to investigate.

I opened the door to Alana lying on her back on the floor with her pants pulled down around her ankles, her feet stuck straight up in the air, and a dirty diaper in her hand. Apparently, she’d decided that: 1) she wasn’t going to wear it, and 2) she wasn’t going to come and find me to change it. She reported that the box of wipes was empty, as she had also tried to wipe herself a bit.

<sniff> They grow up so fast!

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