Six Months

I know there's no such thing as a "six month birthday." It is quite possible (probable) that I've made fun of people (parents) who celebrate such trivialities.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning teeming with pride, as the freshly christened father of a six month old.

Rye Opal is six months old today. And despite the fact that many have come before her in that endeavor, I'm amazed by this occurrence and can't wait to see what the next six months bring.

Happy Birthday, Rye...and weird friends.

First 5k

On Saturday, Rye, Rhoda and I ran our first 5k as a family. Rye was a champ, despite the unseasonably cold weather and her parents' lack of preparation (socks work as gloves in a pinch, by the way). I think it took us like an hour to run 3 miles, but we ran 3 miles, so there's that.

The aforementioned lack of preparation resulted in no photos of Rye in her all terrain stroller braving the elements. I did, however, manage to have Rhoda snap a post-race photo of me and the Little Girl (in the back-yard). She's wearing a bear costume...'cause it's warm...and cute to the point of absurdity.

The Saturday Post

I'm still a sucker for a morning paper. Half the time I read little more than a third of the Saturday edition, but I still like the way it feels in my hands and looks on my bed. I know its a dying medium and that makes me feel like I should do my part to keep it alive. So I've introduced my daughter to the time honored tradition of reading the Saturday morning paper with a cup of coffee.

Rye, however, sees the big picture. In today's edition of the Rye Report, we capture the Little Girl's first interpretive dance. It is on the topic of the relationship between digital and print media. Rye plays the part of digital media. My newspaper plays itself.

Baseball

Baseball has always been a part of my life. Some of my earliest (happiest) memories take place in the Astrodome in Houston, Texas.  My dad introduced me to the beauty of the strategy of the game and guided me past the spectacle of professional sports.  Other kids were Superman; I was Nolan Ryan.

I doubt my daughter will dream of hitting homeruns or pitching no-hitters, but that's okay...as long as she goes to a game with me once in awhile.

RYE'S FIRST ROCKIES GAME!
(we got through 4 innings)

I think she's actually watching this game!

Happy Mother's Day

I've been saving this one for Mother's Day.

Here's to my favorite new mother...and to all the other great ones I know and have known.  None of this would be possible without you.

I am so lucky.

And now some action shots:

Mom introduces Rye to Avocado (which she loves)

Rye with an Avocado mustache (it got bigger)

Rye spots Mom

 

Rye wants Mom

This is how she is when Rhoda walks in.

 

This cat tastes like...

So far, Rye will eat breast milk and rice cereal, as long as it's made with breast milk.  Sweet potatoes remind her of pears.  Judging by her facial expression, pears taste like a dirt sandwich.

Her feet are a whole different story.  I'm seriously not sure if I have ever been as fond of the flavor of anything as this kid is of the flavor of her left foot.

Anyway, over the last few days, she decided she wanted to taste the cat.  So she did.  It just took a little stalking followed by a diversionary tactic.  When the time was right, she made her move.

 

Who does she favor?

From day one of the Little Girl's life, there has been a an 800 pound gorilla in the room asking us the question that parents have been trying to answer about their infants since infants had parents.  I think you know the one.  If you are aware of this blog, you've tried to answer the gorilla.

Who does she look like?

I think that it's hard to compare an infant face to an adult face.  So, I'm providing you with some more relevant documentary evidence for comparison:

Jody, sometime in first 5 to 8 months

Rye in her Colorado Rockies gear

Rhoda, approximately 6 months

Rye, 5 months