Friends who know Laney today know her as a dainty princess. Friends who went to college with Laney and me remember her...differently. She was more like a cheerleader back then: peppy, outgoing, and operating under the assumption that everybody likes her. As a former cheerleader myself, I am also peppy, outgoing, and operating under the assumption that everybody likes me. Together we made quite a splash.
Removing Laney from the apartment is a spectacle all its own. She prefers for me to carry her on my hip, the same way a mother carries her toddler. I've always carried her this way, but now Laney is in that awkward puppy stage where she's all legs, and when I put her on my hip, her front paws rest gently on my shoulders and her hind legs stretch down to my knees. We look like complete jackasses. Laney is more delighted than a newly crowned Miss America, while I am beyond embarrassed as I do the walk of shame through the apartment, trying my best to avoid the stares. Oh, the things we do for our babies.