Well, I think it's official: the girl is not a fan of yoga.

I was so convinced this time was going to be different when we headed out for our first solo outing. It was actually the first time I've driven the car since Lucy's arrival -- so first I got to experience what it's like to drive with a crying baby. In two words -- no fun. She cried until we got on the highway, and I was breathing hard and maintaining a death grip on the steering wheel, muttering "Lucy, Lucy, shhh, shh...." It felt like I was rushing a gunshot victim to the hospital. But the instant we hit the Schuylkill, she was fine. Which is weird...most people start crying when they get on that road.

Anyhow, we arrived at the yoga class shortly after the early afternoon feeding, so she wouldn't be tempted to nurse for forty minutes. And she was great for the first half of class, cooing obligingly when I would do forward folds and tickle her belly, styling in her little pink Baby Gap sweatpants, basically impersonating an angel baby.

Then we moved onto the floor, and the lower lip began to pout. And the eyes squinched closed. And the mouth opened up, and I knew what was coming: Lucy's Nuclear Scream of Death (Patent Pending).

It starts off like a normal cranky baby wah-wah-wah. Then it escalates into a shriek. WAH! WAH! WAH!

And then it gets really bad. Bad to the point where she's beet-red and shaking and barely managing a breath between cries. AHWAHHHH! AHWAHHH! WAHHH! And oh brothers and sisters, it is loud. Scary-loud. Louder than any baby has a right to be. Louder, in fact, than any human being has a right to be.

I rocked her. I walked her. I offered her a selection of breasts ("Today we're serving the left one and the right one.") Nothing doing. At this point I was convinced that the other yoga moms were thinking that I'd dragged her into the corner and was battering her with the little copper statue of the Buddha.

It was the longest five minutes or so of my life. Finally, she sucked on my finger, sucked on my finger, sucked on my finger, and conked out in my lap.

And I don't know what was wrong. Gas? Maybe. Hungry? Doubtful. Doesn't like yoga? I worry. Especially since at present the girl is sitting in her bouncy seat listening to Snoop Doggy Dog's "Gin and Juice," and she's happy as a clam.

This cannot bode well for her karma.

Anyhow, paperback tour dates for IN HER SHOES coming soon....I'll be doing a readings in Cape Cod, in Boston, in Philadelphia, Baltimore and DC over the summer, then in NYC in early September. Stay tuned....