Quit Beating That Horse Daddy!

There's something about the first smiles.  They're addictive.  Like crack.  Or Scramble With Friends.  The only difference is, in the beginning they're few and far between; and unlike crack or Scramble, you don't really want to share them.  So once you find a mechanism that works, you keep at it until you've exhausted the supply.  You can't help yourself.  You make a silly face and a simultaneously silly noise and those little dimples sink down. ... your heart leaps out of your chest and you get all warm and fuzzy.  You do it again, to see if you really were the cause or if it was just a fart.  It worked again!  Yes!  One more time!  One more time!  One more time!  One more time!  Ooops.  Dimply smile has now morphed in to a quivering lip and a furrowed brow.  It's like she's saying "please, Daddy!  For the love of god just stop beating that dead horse already."  But I can't help it. ... I'm a junkie. ... a junkie for baby smiles. I'll give it one more go. ... Oh, wait a minute. ... it's my turn to go on Scramble With Friends. ....