The Little Things

We're in the midst of a "Free Willy" festival at our house that started last night and gives every indication of ending two or three years from now. Tonight at dinner, Annalee kept saying "Dada" and pointing upstairs -- where, it turned out, she wanted to show me some of her new favorite movie. We sat down on the dog's bed together, where the family watches a fair amount of what TV and movies we watch, and Annalee's arm started making flipper movements mimicking the orca on the screen. I could be wrong, but I was pretty sure she had no idea what her arm was doing. Either way, her arm moved around and around and up and down for at least ten seconds, and seeing it felt like the most important thing that has ever happened to me.

Curly

A certain someone by the name of Annalee has some pretty curly hair. (It's also pretty.) And it has come to my attention that brushing this out every day might be a good idea -- nothing involved, just a minute or two. It turns out that I brushed my sister's hair quite a lot when we were little kids. She may have been the reason that the No More Tangles product line was invented, and was profitable. Little Annalee, so far, tolerates my efforts to attend to her hair needs. Even when I hit a snag (I hold the hair to keep it from being yanked reasonably well, but I'm not perfect), she sits calmly and lets me finish. I, of course, intend for the experience to be as pleasant as possible for her, and so far as I can tell she understands.