Take one sensory-deprived infant, add three baby-crazed nieces, and blend in a healthy dose of scones, sunshine, and squirtguns, and you've got one tough act to follow-up. Cheeky was introduced to "The Girls," genetically perfect über-children whose fatal flaw is that they sometimes "love too hard." I arrived two days after they did, so I missed the initial tsunami of attention, and by the time I got their my child looked completely dazed. What surprised me most was that until that point I didn't think she had a facial expression for "dazed," but she must have been forced to grow up fast.
We only get to see Carl, Layne, and "The Girls" about three times a year, so it's a treat when they're in town. When they weren't fawning over Cheeky (or doing pre-vocational training for Gattaca Corp.) "The Girls" kept everyone generally entertained with Super-Soaker battles (in which they learned a valuable lesson from their Uncle Tony about disarming your opponent--the hard way), hitting on the pre-teen next door, and innocent references to the breathing patterns of people on oxygen tanks. Layne, a "baby whisperer," took care of Chloe a lot, to the point where we thought she'd be packed away in her luggage before the weekend was out. Unfortunately, this was our suggestion, not Layne's, so they went back to New Hampshire this morning with only the spawn they brought with them.
It does look like Cheeky is looking less like an alien and more like a human every day. She's super-attentive and looks like she's checking things out everywhere. She even smiles occasionally, although it's probably an involuntary reaction to one of her farts (hey, farts are funny...everyone knows it). It's pretty cool, except at 3 AM. Or when she's squeezing zesty Grey Poupon onto your hand. Or when her forehead explodes when the car goes below 55 miles per hour. Where's Keanu when you need him....?