Superbowl Funday

We spent Amelia's first Superbowl Sunday at the Saich's house. She has no idea what she's in for with this particular event, but time will surely educate her well enough. In any case, she was the only girl in the bunch and held her own well. If she doesn't take after her dad and grow large enough to fight back, she will take after me and learn how to battle with her wits as time moves along. Either way, tears only dripped a couple times and with quick recoveries. There was many a comment to the liking of "what a mellow, happy baby" and my personal favorite, "such an EASY baby" to which I snorted. She sat in the living room, in front of this blaring TV, surrounded by yelling adults and destructive toddlers, and simply played by herself unaffected by the chaos. She was plum tuckered by evening's end (we came home during the 3rd quarter), but never fell apart and went to bed easy. I spent the rest of the night reflecting about Amelia and her long-running label of The Difficult Baby. Might be time to hang up the sash and accept the sweet, loving girl who has emerged. Might be.


For the "Look what's happened to us all" file, looking around the party yesterday was a real kick in the pants. We've all traded the bars for playrooms, the fancy haircuts for stretch marks, and the all-nighters with the gang, for all nighters with toofers.
Just look at this picture:
Among these men, these dads one taught me how to smuggle booze into a concert, another hitchhiked through Tahoe on Independence Day with me, and that one on the left? You don't even want to know the bad influences he's had on me.(How do you think we got here to begin with?!) Just look at them. All growns up.
*Le sigh*