LMJ: Saving The World One Daddy at A Time

I’m going to be out of town on Thursday and Friday, so I spent today with LMJ. My baby girl is a peach, and she makes everything okay. She recharges my karmic batteries, which are like the batteries in MJ’s Dyson handheld; they get depleted very quickly. When I’m playing with LMJ nothing is stupid. I love my neighborhood and my neighbors. I love my ratty backyard. I love looking at things through her eyes. She’s taking years off my life, but it’s completely worth it. She can’t jump yet – it’s just a matter of time – but she jumps off of things. We walked to our park today, and after the swinging and sliding, we were running around a gazebo that sits on a slab of concrete that’s raised about an inch off the ground. She yells “JUMP” and steps off the edge. I’ve said this before; I’m saying this now, and I’ll say it again. The next thing LMJ is afraid of will be the first thing she’s afraid of. The gazebo’s base sticks out about four inches at four points around the structure. It’s a tripping hazard. LMJ misses each one when she runs around the gazebo by millimeters. She’s haulin’ ass so if she clips one she’s gonna eat crete, so I have to follow her close enough to catch her if she falls. It’s simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying for me. I’m glad that she’s on her way to being an active tough kid, but I’d rather be waterboarded than see her in pain. We had been at the park for about forty-five minutes when she started to get tired. I suggested that we go home, and she voted no, vociferously. I told her it was time for lunch and that we were going to have macaroni and cheese, and I swear I heard her say, “Let’s ride, Dawg.” We walked home, had lunch, and when we were done she said, “Tired. Nap”. I put her to bed, she gave me a hug and a kiss, and she went to sleep. It’s a cliché, but she makes me a better person.