We got a Mardi Gras baby. So now it's like danger alley around here. As if it werentn't Already.

Freshly bathed baby - one of my favorite types!



Baby is now outnumbered seven to one. Grammy and Grandpa are visiting! So that means two more people are here who think it's unacceptable to suck on the soles of shoes.

Of course, there are four more feet around the house, so possibly we'll have better luck at keeping her from the paper, penny, and glass eating.

I forgot to mention way back during Mardi Gras that I got the baby from this year's Mardi Gras King Cake! It probably slipped my mind because I was terrified of the incredible danger. It's so dangerous that the Mardi Gras baby doesn't even come inside the cake anymore.



Here it is with a penny so you can further appreciate the actual scale of the incredible danger:



You have the option of putting it in yourself if you want to take your life into your own hands, but I just asked if I could pocket it and take it home.



So now we have two incredibly dangerous babies in the house.



In any case, happy spring! I hope everyone managed the dangers of Mardi Gras cake!

It's hard to tell a bunch of old people that your baby knocked an autoharp on her face. Especially if one of those old people is the baby's 91 year old grandmother.

It's hard to tell a bunch of old people that your baby has a black eye because she knocked an autoharp on her face. That mark on her cheek in the picture below is the only part you can see anymore.

But at least they just smile and nod, pretending either that they heard you or that the know what an autoharp is or both. It's even harder to explain to a bunch of former coworkers who can actually hear.

But they wouldn't think it was so odd if they spent an afternoon with this baby.



Because she sees each and every day as a new chance for a minor catastrophe.

Since last time I posted she's tried to choke herself on an acorn and my camera card, eat a piece of glass, attack who knows what with a steak knife, knock an old fashioned kajillion and a half pound ironing board on herself, and that's not even to mention her normal, everyday attempts at eating as many reams of paper as she can get away with.



Luckily I was able to rescue her from her from all but the autoharp.

By the way, for anyone who remembers my "All Babies are Boys Unless Proven Otherwise" post, I have an update. It's still true as far as I can tell. I brought the baby dressed just like this (pink pants with a pink, purple, and white shirt) into the music store.



So of course, the store owner thought she was...

A boy wearing a barrette.

No really! In fact, he even told me he wondered why I would put a barrette on a boy. So...that's it from here. The baby girl who looks like a baby boy is bent on self destruction and getting reacquainted with her much hated playpen!