Our acting friends call it being "off-book" -- it's the point in rehearsal where you've memorized all your lines and stage cues and you don't need the script in front of you anymore. We thought our nights with Sophie were off-book; we'd put her to sleep in the crib, a few hours later she'd cry, get a little milk, then back to bed.
Last night the little funster decided to try improv. The standard two wake-ups became seven, and they weren't polite little ones either -- they were an all-you-can-eat buffet of full-body kicks and angry crying. We were making up stuff on the spot, but none of it fit with this new tragedy being acted out.
But today she seems to think everything is a comedy again, flirting for Aaron, laughing with Lisa and enjoying a long stroller ride. Tune in tomorrow.
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