on the occasion of my daughter turning two months old

Clementines been with us two months as I type this, and, for the past two months, Linettes been asking me to write something in her baby book. As much as I love my daughter, I just cant think of anything interesting to say though. I keep starting, but then I quickly get discouraged. I get a few ideas down, read over them, and then invariably determine that theyre just too trite. I find myself saying the exact same things Ive heard hundreds of men before me say – that being her father is the best thing Ive ever done, and that I love her more than I knew was even possible.

If theres something new and interesting to be said about fatherhood, I cant think of it.

The only thing that Ive written that I think might not have been written before is, I love you more that blogging itself. That, of course, as pathetic as it sounds now, will only sound much more so as the years pass So it too was erased.

As was the good intentioned but overly creepy, Id gladly die for you.

I also erased the phrase, You are the only person in the whole, wide world that I would ever let poop on me.

So, its with some degree of sadness that Ive once again come to the determination that Im not a very good writer. Clementine, therefore, will have to content herself with photos like this one that Linette snapped of me reading to her last night. Hopefully, some of the stuff that Im not able to say in words comes though…

Clementine and I had some good father-daughter quality time this morning while Linette caught up on office work. We went out flyering for John Kerry. I had a cup of coffee in a flask, a staple gun, and a satchel full of MoveOn No Voter Left Behind flyers, and she was just looking up at me and chuckling. It was cool. I kept thinking, This is a neat way to start out in the world. I also thought, a bit selfishly I suppose, that cops couldnt really give me too hard of a time for putting up leaflets if I had her strapped to my chest. (She was like my little Get Out of Jail Free card.) I also thought that it would be unlikely that any Republicans would pull up and yell at me for the same reason. (Maybe thats giving them too much credit, but, if its true, Id suggest that everyone lash either a barrowed or plastic baby to their stomachs before heading out to tack up handbills.) At any rate, Clementine and I had some good quality time for a while, until the sun started heating up and the coffee started coursing through my veins. At that point, things started going down hill. Its hard, I found, to keep a baby in a good mood while dripping hot sweat into her tiny eyes. It also didnt help that wed lost her sun hat yesterday, when it blew off her head and into the Huron River. (The image of a tiny baby bonnet floating down the river, I can now report firsthand, is not one that brings happy thoughts to mind.)

Back to the topic of this post, the first two months with Clementine have been great. Its been a pleasure to watch her grow and to discover new things about her as they develop. A few weeks ago she started sticking her tongue out at me when Id stick out mine at her, and now, this week, shes begun smiling these wonderfully happy, genuine smiles when she looks at Linette and me, the kind of smiles that she only made after pooping in her sleep before.

Right now, shes lying in her crib and I can hear her sucking on her fist. She started doing that last week. It makes the cutest little sound. If I were more technically adept, Id record a sound file of it and post it here. (Id also try to capture the gurgling of breast milk as it enters her, and the bubbling sound that it makes a few minutes later as it exits.)

While were on the subject of baby sounds, Linette and I were visiting with a friend of ours last night, a fellow by the name of Alan, who, thirty years ago, was an art student of Linettes father. He was telling us that at the RNC protests in New York the police were blasting the sounds of babies crying, played backward, to confuse and disable the protestors. (Then, when they put their hands to their ears, the cops would gather them up like fish in a net.) I dont know if its true, but it sounds plausible. Ive read before that the sound of a baby crying is one of the most upsetting sounds there is, and my guess is that amplifying it and playing it backward wouldnt make it any less so. Alan also told us that John Ashcroft thinks calico cats are evil though, so you might want to look into it before spreading it around as fact. (On a side note, are there any readers in the DC area who would be willing to go and visit Ashcroft in a calico cat suit? I think that would make a great story for Crimewave.)

On the subject of conspiracies, a reader by the name of Monica wanted you all to check out this little video on the apparent anomalies of the 9/11 attack on the Pentagon Monica, if youre reading this, you might want to check out this response that I found at the Snopes site.

OK, I have to go wash diapers and squish flies now. Ill try to write more later.

And, for the record, I really do love Clementine. I don’t mind her poop a bit. She is the best thing I’ve ever done. And, I would, without a moment of hesitation, take a bullet in the neck for her.