Uncle Al

Alright, truth be told: while Bea is like her Daddy, as I so often profess, she also smacks of her Uncle Al. Here's how it goes: the sweet-pea, soft spoken, big-eyed baby girl is the George part. The imp-eyed whirling dervish is the Uncle Al part. Oh yeah, the stomp your foot down and scream when told 'no' is the Erin part. (slight digression: the strong-willedness has arrived on the scene. When Bea is ever so gently "redirected" by either George or
myself she performs what George refers to as a "veer & vapor." First, she takes off running blindly in the opposite direction as the horrible person who instructed "no touchie." Then she vapor locks, i.e., screams with mouth wide open, sometimes no sound escapes. Tears rarely accompany and veer & vapor.)

At any rate it is unreal how much of my brother Allen is present in the Skeets. I see it when she takes on the pug in the boxing ring. There she stands, at her 23 lb fight weight, string cheese clenched tightly in one hand, with her impish little eyes alight, challenging the pug to take her on for the title of the string cheese. Creeping around the table taunting, "Fwooow, Rrrooooww." Pug cannot resist and bam!! Fight is on. Pug bats with the left paw, Bea ducks. Bea waves the string cheese wildly in Frau's face then jerks it away. Frau goes on the offense. From here it goes the same every time. Pug knocks Bea down (gently) with one paw - while she's falling to the ground he leaps slightly vertical, but more horizontal, and snatches the string cheese. Frau trots off to tenderly lick and nibble his kill on our bed. Bea veers & vapors (but only if we're looking) or else she laughs and toddles after him. But its this no holds barred kind of attitude I think she inherited from Al.
The crazy Skeetie impy-eyes Oliver has come to fear.
Oliver hiding under the chair from you-know-who.

I also see it when we go swimming. Unlike the other 12-16 mo old babies at the pool, Bea is no content to merely splash and play with Mummy & Daddy. Nooo-ho-ho, Bea must climb onto the side of the pool, back up about 5 steps and make a running leap into the pool. No shit. The first time she did it I thought, "oh cute, she's brave." But the 20 other times it scares the crap out of me because she gets the impy-eyes-alight look and bolts for the pool, no matter if I'm ready or not. Take for example the time in Fairmont, when I was in fact not ready and she goes flying into the water and kerplunks like a little lead weight straight to the bottom. Does it scare her? Sort of, but not really. Now this is her dead on impression of Uncle Al. (I still remember when Al & I took swim lessons together as kids, he was maybe 3 or 4, and our instructor referred to him as 'kamikaze.' Or the time at our grandma's pool when he jumped in, but had no clue how to swim, and no one was around. If I remember correctly, I jumped in after him.) Somehow, my daughter got my brother's fearless gene.

Let me also say that I see Al in her when she does the following: manages to climb up the front of the kitchen stove; shimmies up the refrigerator by hanging on to the handle and using her grip-footed pj's to climb up (once again, not kidding); teeters precariously on a stack of books to climb up onto the coffee table then stands up and looks at George & I with the impy eyes; and last, but not at all least, stands up in her high chair when we're not looking and points and hollers at Frau cowering down below.

She is the sweetest thing in the world, but sometimes is missing the innate fear of physical heights or challenges. Oh, cannot forget when she was 12 mo. old she went flying down the adult waterslides on her daddy's lap - grinning from ear to ear. Does that seem a little odd? Ok, and also the fact that she willingly goes out onto the ice in her hockey skates w/ dad and scoots around on the ice, seems pretty brave for a 14 mo old kid. She also goes swooshing down hills in a sled all by herself behind her dad when we go x-country skiing. She never seems to get scared.

I am really proud of the fact that she's not a weenie or a whiner. Maybe its attributable to her "Canadian stock" or her Uncle Al, or maybe its just another facet entirely attributable to our unique little Beatrice Marie. Whatever it is, I do like to believe I see a sparkle of my amazing little brother in my daughter. The things she hasn't learned yet, I know he will do a wonderful job of teaching her. Like creativity, independent thinking, compassion and love for your family. But the impy-eyes definetly are a throw-back to Al.

Here they are when she was about 9 mo. old and eating out of her favorite Froggy bowl & cup
from her Uncle Al.