Daffodil and I are having a quiet At-Home Day. She has been suffering from intermittent bouts of dizziness and occasional puking over the last few months, and her Kindermusik class seems to have brought on the vertigo, at least, again, so we have canceled our itinerary of errands and ‘fun activities’ and are lounging about like a couple of lords.
Well, one lord- she is nibbling some nourishing bacon in front of the tv, and I am slaving away at the drawing table and the computer building up her fan base, something after the manner of the Apostle Paul. And, in that vein, since everyone likes a good Origin Story, here is (I think) the earliest mention of Daffodil on Facebook:
Mirazilla spent the night waking up and crying and the morning ‘sleeping’ and making noises like a door hinge in a haunted house. Apparently this has fixed whatever ailed her and she is now dismembering a small box. I’d better stop her before she eats it.
As you can see, she was traveling under a different name at the time, one of many incognitos. And… I was about to illustrate this scene of pity and terror, but I had underestimated the healing power of bacon, and was dragged off, willy-nilly, to the ‘lie-berry’, which only an hour before we had agreed to save until tomorrow. Some fruitless, or perhaps bootless, sketching ensued while Daffodil played Mousetrap with another young lady of approximately the same weight and age, (Daffodil: “Papa, I cheated.” Me: “That’s not good. Why did you cheat?” Daffodil: “It’s more fun that way.” Me: “Well, it might be more fun for you, but what about your friend?” Daffodil: “She likes it better that way, too.” Friend: (Nods vigorously).) and I am now exhausted, so no illustration will be forthcoming tonight. Or even fifthcoming. In lieu of that-which-is-worth-a-thousand-words, and keeping in mind that talk is cheap, I will leave you with this tid-bit:
Daffodil: (holding up tiny grey ovoid) “Look, Papa! It’s from my dinner!”
Me: (squinting) “What is it?”
Daffodil: “It’s a tiny grape. Isn’t it cute?”
Daffodil: “What shall we do with it? It’s so precious…”