And he went in unto her and she conceived, and bare a daughter, and they called her name Rinah Berith. And lo, her mother got a breast infection last week, and she was down and out with fever for a few days, after which it subsided. And on Tuesday, her grandmother departed from the city of Tokyo and came unto Kennewick in the land of Washington, and her great aunt Sally from Chicago came also. OK, never mind. We’ve been reading Genesis out loud and it got to me.

Some people ask me how to pronounce her name. It’s pretty straightforward. REEEE-nuh beh-REEEETH … simple, eh? Technically, it’s not an “uhh” sound but a schwa, like the first “a” in “banana” or the “u” in circus or the … you get the idea.

Berith drinks milk desperately, day and night, and poops heaps and heaps. Her whole life consists of eating, pooping, and sleeping. Actually, that pretty much sums up my life as well. She smiles after pooping and smiles in her sleep, too. She giggled in her sleep this morning. I wonder what she dreams about. Probably milk and poop.

She is such a good baby. She usually only cries when she’s hungry or when her diaper is dirty. But even then, she gives fair warning with grimaces, which over the next five or ten minutes work their way up to warning whimpers, before she actually starts crying. And it’s not that obnoxious yelling that some babies do but heart-broken cries of wail and woe. It makes me want to cry just to hear it.

She likes baths and her little sighs of contentment after her diaper has been changed are hilarious. I’m so glad she likes to keep clean.

She likes to make faces. She has several faces in her repertoire, including monkey-face (which cracks me up to no end), disapproving-old-lady-face, I’m-a-boy-face, and I’m-thinking/pooping-really-hard-face. Mostly, she has the sweetest earnest little girl face.

So far, the one thing she seems to hate is the car seat. I don’t like cars either. *three cheers for public transportation* Like I said, such a good little baby. She screams and yells when she gets put in it, expressing the all those pent-up feelings I have about having to spend so much time in cars.

Her first soak-through-three-layers-of-clothing-poop-explosion happened today. *sigh* It was really gross. See?

At least breastfed babies have soupy poop that washes off really easily. Here endeth the pooping pictures. I will spare you the milking pictures.