Meet The Dagginator
Wednesday, July 23, 2014 at 08:44AM

I have been receiving pressure from several of Dagny's fans to provide updated photos of her.

See, this is the thing.

Dagny is thirty-nine days old. I have been with (or near) her every day of her life except one.

(A week ago Thursday, I went thirty-six hours without seeing her.)

If when I see her I do not have my proper camera along, at least I have my phone.


It is rare for me to be in Dagny's company when she is not either:

1. Eating; or

2. Asleep.

She's still among the tinies. Thus, true "awake time" is at a premium and usually happens when I am not around.

Even so, eating appears to be far and away Dagny's favorite pastime.

She has gained two whole pounds since she was born.

And I will share with you a little secret: Dagny may need a twelve-step program.

"My name is Dagny and I am a milkaholic."

"Hello Dagny."

One day at a time.

Because upon the conclusion of each (very frequent) meal, Dagny is immediately and obviously inebriated.

Milk drunk. Three burp cloths to the wind.

Invariably she wakes up hung over and desperately requiring hair of the dog.

Thus, as I said, so far, just about any time I am around, Dagny Clare is either:

1. Eating;

2. Sleeping; or

3. Howling for a refill.

TG, her devoted Papaw, has dubbed our granddaughter The Dagginator.

So it was that yesterday, having been out and about, Audrey dropped by in the afternoon.

Dagny was tired of being in her carseat and, in her fashion, was being charmingly vocal regarding her desire for a milky repast.

That accomplished, her mother was hungry so I fixed her a tasty omelet. Mothers look out for daughters around here.

While Audrey ate and enjoyed a moment to breathe, I cradled my darling Dagny.

She was zonked the whole time.

Eventually she stirred and stretched and purred and pawed the air and let out a few yelps.

And in due course, demanded indicated politely that she had a one-item agenda: Feed me. Now.

Audrey obliged her and afterwards, I took Dagny outside to sit on the swing.

She was soon -- you guessed it -- sound asleep again.

After cuddling her for a bit, I handed Dagny to her mother, who took my place on the swing.

I fetched my camera.

We'd taken a few dozen shots of an unconscious Dagny before I had the bright idea to give her a bath.

I love giving Dagny her bath. I keep all the supplies for baby ablutions at my house, just in case.

So we did that, and then our dearest baby was awake.

We dressed her in angel wings and took her back outside into the sunshine.

Shortly we brought her back indoors, and installed her into a onesie. And put the angel wings back on.

But by then, The Dagginator had just about had it.

She was mad inconsolable. Ready to eat again.

Wouldn't you like to pinch those chubby cheeks?

(We all kiss her until she is practically reeling from the onslaught of smacking lips and smoochy noises.)

At any rate, Dagny, after shedding her angel wings, having been soothed and nourished by her mother, calmed down for the ride home.

So for the nonce, the above seven photos will have to suffice.

But tomorrow is another day.

And that is all for now.


Happy Wednesday

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