Abigail reached a landmark today. After only eleven months, a fourth tooth finally gasped in its first breath of air. My how she grows. Already, her favorite word is "Hi" and her favorite pasttime is bouncing up and down to the Enchanted soundtrack. A few days ago she spent not less than ten minutes bouncing herself up and down in my arms, filled with the thrill of life.

An evening or so ago, we sat in the tall grass together in our back yard, watching tiny grasshoppers skip to and fro. Abigail giggled when I would catch one in my hand and held it in my palm for her to see. In only a moment, the hopper launched toward freedom, and a delighted Abigail watched and grinned. She thought they were just great. We spent some time yesterday playing basketball and chasing roly poly bugs.

Delores is the best mom. I love watching Abigail, her large eyes full of wonder at her mother. Where Delores goes, Abigail trots along behind, babbling away and content because mom is close. Delores is tireless and affectionate to the last moment of every day. I count myself a fortunate man.

We had a delightful experience during the 4th of July in Provo. The parades were enjoyable -- really. I've never liked parades. Sitting, waiting, baking in the sun, plugging ears, waiting for something, anything to happen. Not my cup of tea. Yet somehow, it was different. It was really fun. Everything is different now, and perhaps that is part of being a dad.

The family set up some inflatable pools in the yard. One pool was large, the other not so much. The rules for the were: "To play in the small pool, you must be less than *(pause while asking for the name of the oldest toddler)* four years old." This met some sighs of sorrow from the older boys, and sighs of relief from a few moms. The small pool was soon forgotten, however, for they discovered a new game: see how many pitchers of hot water need to be carried from the kitchen to make the large pool warm. It was like watching a colony of ants at work, all the nieces and nephews trotting in and out with steaming pitchers containing a few cups of hot water. It was all good fun.

Abigail, we learned, loves playing in pools of water. This was her first time. Smothered in sunscreen until a moose could pass out from the fumes, we stood her in the small pool. She sat down once, and with eyes widening at the chill, darted so quickly to her feet and to the edge of the pool that I thought we had given birth to an acrobat. After a few moments of clinging desperately to the side of the pool, curiosity overcame her and she gingerly reached over and started patting the water with her hand. Oh, she loved it!

Since then, she gets thrilled all over and begins hopping up and down in our arms at the site of a body of water, be it inflatable pool or bathtub. Her excitement about life is a thrill for me. Similar to how exciting life became when I married Delores, life is richer because of my little girl. Oh, I could be a daddy forever.

The Barker reunion rolled around again this year, and we held it at the dinosaur park at the mouth of Ogden canyon. We had quite a delightful time. Delores and I missed the turn when driving to the park, and did not realize it until we exited the other side of the canyon and had our choices of remote ski resorts for destinations. At last, doing honor to all males, I stopped and asked for directions.

My kid sister is an aspiring photographer, and she has a knack of grabbing neat photos. This picture is one of hers. If any of you are looking for a good photographer...

We also had games at the party. One game consisted of standing on wobbly wooden platforms and knocking an opponent off theirs with only a foam sword. It was rich fun. We were sad when the third sword broke, leaving nothing left for the game. It was a somewhat embarassing truth that three different Rimingtons were responsible for each of the three different broken swords. We're a rowdy bunch.

I'll admit it. We didn't always vacuum every day (or week, for that matter); but we do much better now that Abigail's unrelenting curiosity married her budding mobility.

So how did she find a rusty old staple to eat? It hasn't been more than a day, or maybe two, since the vacuum scrubbed that very patch of floor.

Thank heavens she hasn't figured out how to use her tongue to swallow solids.

Folks say that teaching a few simple signs to a child can help them learn to communicate, and thus reduce the frustrations of toddlerhood. So it is that we have a few signs that we use when we talk to her. "Mom", "Dad", "Milk", "Diaper", "Food", "Up", "Was' up, Dog?"... Only the essentials.

Well, of all the goodness, she picked up on one!

Milk, she said to Delores yesterday morning. She was hungry. Milk, she said to Delores in the afternoon when, again, she was hungry.

Hearing about it from Delores made my day!

Abigail is mobile. Dangerously so. This message was driven home to us when she found Delores' scriptures. The tale is a good one to tell. Delores had turned to the computer for a moment to e-mail her thesis to herself. This is her method for backing up her work. In the time it took to submit the email, Abigail traversed enough of the room to get to the scriptures and spell their doom.

If mom likes them so much, then I think I will, too. She began to playfully tear out pages and fist them into her mouth. I suppose you might say she was "feasting on the word" (2 Ne. 31:20). Really, it is a heartache to see such a well-loved set of scriptures in such a state, but I cannot seem to suppress a smile.

It has been a remarkable perspective shift for us. We placed furniture in front of the bike, vacuumed, rearranged end tables, vacuumed again. She has taken interest in the power button on our little server. It glows, so why wouldn't she? She is so very curious, and we are very unchild-proof. I have a feeling that there is a great adventure only barely around the corner.

Abigail is over five months old now (Hurray!). She has discovered that she can roll to the nearest plant and wreak havoc, that she can vary the pitch of her voice, and that things like telephones and keyboards have buttons for pushing. It's really quite a delight.

We are also pressing ever deeper into the question, When do we feed her solids? I had no idea this was a controversial battle-ground well worth avoiding, but we're here anyway. We sat at the table, Abigail taking an interest in the food on our plates. I suggested we let her taste some. Delores was doubtful.

We tried giving Abigail a taste of a few foods that we were eating. The first was the avacado. I knew the instant she got the flavor in her mouth that I should have had the camera ready. Her face was wrenched up in nauseous shock with an expression that seemed to scream "That's not MILK!" It was only moments before I caught it all in a handy cloth.

Then, thought I, something milder should do the trick. We had warm mashed potatoes handy, and a put a little on the spoon and into her mouth. That's when the gagging started. "I said, that's not MILK!!!" The gagging throes were so intense I traded the cloth for a bowl in case she succeeded in vomiting her whole last meal.

Delores looked at me with an I told you so look which, in fact, she had. I suppose we shall be content with breastfeeding for a while longer.

It is hard to express how much I love being my child's father. Today, we were listening to the speakers at church. Abigail was nestled in my lap, looking attentively forward, with her arm wrapped snugly around my tie. I felt like she wanted me around. I felt wanted and needed.

She is such a delightful child. When we are playing, she laughs musically. May I never forget how freely she smiles when she presses her hands on Delores's lips, or when she finds something amusing about the way something is, or when she has yet another small victory of growing up.

This has been a memorable winter, one that revitalized the wonder of Christmas, the pleasure of snow, and the thrill of life. That is what my little girl is to me. Pure, thrill of life.

There is little doubt but that my sweet little girl is my lovely wife's daughter. They look so sweet together. I saw the photograph of Delores and thought, for a moment, that I was looking at Abigail.

Shhh! Don't tell anyone I'm hiding out here with my camoflage sweatpants or they might find me...

Come with me and share in my joy. We experienced a neat blessing over the weekend.

I carry a number of things in my pocket: nail clippers, pens, keys, etc. Sometimes It seems my pockets are simply a walking purse. We were to travel south to see family, so I pulled my keys from my pocket only to spill the entire contents of my pocket on the wet blacktop. I chuckled at my clumsiness and south we went.

Abigail is teething, and with teething comes an incredible amount of drool and, yes, baby OraGel. A neighbor gave us a sample that we have been very grateful for. It has helped our sweet child through several nights. After applying some OraGel, Delores handed the tube to me and it promptly went into my pocket with everything else.

I returned home without Delores and Abigail on account of the heavy snow storm that hit the area. When I returned home that night, I had a conversation with Delores on the phone. Abigail was having another troublesome night. Delores looked for the OraGel. There it was, sitting alone on the driver's seat of the car. She picked it up and Abigail slept soundly.

She told me this and I checked my pockets. Everything else was there. Keys, nail clippers; all of it. I guess it was a really neat blessing that Of all the things to have fall from my pocket, it was the one thing that would be wanted most when I was so far away.

There's an expression that goes: "The fact that light travels faster than sound explains why some folks look bright before they speak." I suppose that's partly because it is so difficult to listen while speaking.

Abigail was somewhat irritable over the course of the last week. Teething was suspect, so we checked her bottom gums for teeth (because "they", the anonymous baby gurus, say bottom teeth come first. No teeth, nor any signs of teeth. Naturally, we start wondering about ear infections. Abigail did have a cold the previous week.

At length, we get in to the doctor. After Abigail made it through a swarm of adoring nurses, one nurse feels her mouth for a second. She has a tooth! It's on the top row. Curse "they" and us for listening...  That wasn't all. There was, in fact, an incipient infection in her ear.

Now, with a much happier baby, I spend some time musing. Teeth arriving symbolizes another stride toward a speaking Abigail. On the other hand, the ear infection seems to suggest to the hopelessly imaginative soul that with speaking comes the challenge to listen.

It's an exciting step, teeth. At least one reason is my lighthearted sense of competition with the neighbor boy. Young Mr. Kimball is two weeks older than Abigail and sports two lower teeth. The arrival of a top tooth filled me with glib satisfaction. "They" say that top teeth come later. That means, for some reason I couldn't possibly justify or explain, that Abigail is gaining an edge! I suppose that is just a mask for my excitement for my sweet little girl.

The Dorton clan celebrated Thanksgiving with more-than-usual cheer yesterday. We received news that Daniel and Wendy's baby has arrived and they are off even as we speak to pick him up. We are very excited to welcome William Jackson Dorton to the family. We'll certainly need to arrange for William and Abigail to be best friends!

It has been a long-standing habit of mine to sing made-up songs at random throughout the day. My lyrics gradually improved from "I love Delores...I love Delores...I love Delores" to more sophisticated compositions such as "I really, really, really, really, really love Delores".

I was holding Abigail, singing about how happy we were to be a family when she started singing along! She was cooing and puckering her lips as she sang with adorable discord. I felt so happy I could burst. She is a delightful young woman, ready to play stick-out-your-tongue games at a moment's notice. What could a new dad want more?

I feel very lucky to be a dad. At anyrate, I'm off to go sing in our little family choir. 

She is here!

She's my little girl. It feels so peculiar to have her here; peculiar, exhiliarating, liberating, and downright fun!

For those interested in vital statistics, she entered the world Wednesday the 22th, weighing 8lbs. 9.3oz. and measuring 20 inches long. Her eyes tilt up at the ends like Delores. I'm proud to say my looks were mercifully recessive. She makes faces, yawns large enough to swallow a rhinocerous, and loves to cuddle.

And tomorrow is her first week anniversary of living in the sunlight.

We should celebrate

This came from my dad today:

I was just bragging about the new Grandkid picture I have and it dawned on me that your daughter will be the seventh granddaughter with nine grand children total. Does that make her “Seven of Nine”?

I attended the blessing of my youngest niece, Natalie, today. When I stood in the circle to join in the blessing, I felt like I could burst from excitement. We are nine weeks away from Abigail's due date. Supposing I blink my eyes for only a moment, will I be standing in a circle to bless my own child? Many emotions flooded me then, and I am grateful that God is giving us one of his dear children. Seeing Natalie was like a small taste of fathers' joy.

Details of blessings are often too sacred to be written like this for people to view. Suffice it to say that there was peace, joy, and gratitude among all who attended. Natalie smiled with the smiles only infants can have, and even so, only at rare and perfect times. I feel overjoyed that I could participate in one of those times.

I have so many things to look forward to.