December and I have organically found our first game.
I call it the shark game, but renaming it after the movie that gave it's inspiration might be worth consideration.
December, someday in your future you are going to read this. It's probably best that you read this before you see Jaws - and trust me, someday I'm going to show you Jaws. But you should know before you see that movie that you may be betrayed by a pavlovian response while watching it.
Here's how the game works:
I lift December over my head. I've been doing this almost from the very beginning, but as the months have passed she has come to enjoy it more and I've been able to be a bit less ginger about it.
Once she's been up there, arms and legs flailing like a swimmer... those of you familiar with the fate of Susan Backlinie in the opening of Jaws know where this is going already, don't you? ...once she is up there enjoying her view of the world, I begin.
"Daaa - dum..." I say. She smiles with glee. She knows where this is leading.
"Daaa - dum..." I often laugh at this point, 'cause the squirmy-delight of my daughter is completely at odds with the associations I make with John William's most infamous two notes.
"Da-dum da-dum da-dum-da-" I begin lowering her closer and closer to my mouth... like I am a shark surfacing towards a skinny-dipper.
"dum-da-dum-da-dum-da!" And then, just as she reaches my mouth I imitate the trumpet blast from the music and kiss her furiously where ever happens to be closest.
And then usually we start again.
So, December, my little Padawan...
You need to know that when you first watch Jaws, that the instinctive feeling of joy and content you feel in your gut is about to turn into a sucker-punch. Be prepared. I tell you this because I love you and want to assuage your trauma.
Remember the good times we had.