There are some events in life that I don’t capture on film.
(Well, okay, there are a lot of events in life I don’t capture on film, because I’m just this side of terminally dreadful about taking pictures.)
Saturday was one of those nights. My little Lefty has become more concerned with her personal dignity. This is problematic, as she is still very small and heathen-y, and speaks in about the same voice as the shrimp from Shark Tale, which makes it hard to take her seriously.
And when she’s upset, she cries, and talks, and it’s like a shrimp saying “Mee meeb mee mee shplee mee glaaaaaah!”
And her Daddy can’t help but mock her a little, because It Is Danged Funny.
Which gentle mocking is a great affront to her bitty dignity.
So Saturday night, she was really upset about not yet getting her turn to peer through the telescope, and was stomping over to me, arms crossed, shoulders hunched, “meebing” for all she was worth. And her Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal took the opportunity to very gently giggle about that.
It is Truly Impressive, the way a skinny little body can tighten up with rage. Every fiber of her small being trembled with the effort of expressing her anger fully at her Daddy.
She put out her tongue so hard and sharply, I was worried she’d sprain something.
From the look on one Spare Son’s face (he immediately pulled his cap over his face to hid his giggling, but his shoulders were shaking very hard), I really wish I had a camera at that moment.
Poor, poor little Lefty. It’s HARD to be little.