Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that the animals in my books are just representations of actual living species. Sure, I've seen plenty of cats and dogs to know that some people live with animals, but it never occurred to me that a horse was a real thing. I had no idea that all those furry four-legged and feathered two-legged creatures I'd seen in illustrations could be found in someone's back yard. On Saturday, my parents took me to a birthday party at a home with a lot of grass out back. I knew something extraordinary was happening as soon as I noticed the small crowd of children and adults gathered around and in a temporary fence. Inside the fenced pen were a lamb, a calf, a mother goat and its kids, two ducks, and a couple of unexpectedly mellow chickens. At first, I was a tad overwhelmed with the new sights and smells, but by the second time that Mommy walked with me into the pen, I was curious enough to do some sensory exploration. I decided to pet everything but the foul. (Those feathers didn't look as inviting as the fur.) The highlight of the menagerie was, of course, the pony. The big kids, the ones who could walk in and out of the animal pen all by themselves, took turns riding the pony around the yard. I wasn't interested in riding, but I did enjoy petting the horse's mane, which I learned is soft and thick. The birthday girl is my cousin from Daddy's half of the family, and she is now three years old. Seeing as this was my only experience at a girl's third birthday party, I shall use it as my reference point and the basis for my expectations. In other words, I get a pony in two years, right?
Recently, I learned to say uh-oh. I've been making the sound for perhaps a few weeks, but it wasn't until a few days ago that I've been able to apply it to so many useful situations. Uh-oh is the perfect utterance after I "drop" something from the tray of my high chair. I've used it when I "spill" my cheerios all over the living room rug and also when I "inadvertently" remove the items from Mommy's wallet and fling those contents in every direction. One night, while in the bathroom waiting for the tub to fill up with water, I was enjoying my diaper-free time while Mommy handed me bath toys so I could throw them into the tub. I was standing up, minding my own business, when I noticed that the floor beneath me was suddenly wet. I looked down, and there was a yellowish puddle between my legs. Not knowing what else to do, I looked up at Mommy and said, "uh-oh!" She seemed confused at first, but then she said "uh-oh," too, and laughed a little too loud before plopping me in the tub and calling to Daddy to bring paper towels. As you can see, my new phrase is versatile and charming. I've had so much success with it that I'm thinking about adding another adorable word to my vocabulary. Any suggestions?
Uh-oh,
Zelda
Monday, December 30, 2013
Year 2: Week 4
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that Daddy can stay home during week days. He calls this phenomenon his "staycation." I noticed that he spent most of his week away from work playing with me, cleaning the house, and running errands, which made me wonder who was really getting a break from the daily grind - Daddy or Mommy. It sure was grand to have him home all day, and to celebrate, I made sure to stay up late a few nights so we could build and destroy Duplo edifices and listen to his relaxing iTunes playlists, full of Bach and Miles Davis, well into the wee hours of the morning. I hope he feels as though we made the most of each day (and night). I wouldn't want him to go back to work feeling like we'd squandered the opportunity to spend every waking moment together. After all, it's not like he and Mommy had anything to do that wouldn't involve me.
This week I learned that our Canadian family members are smart enough to spend part of the winter here, where it's warm. (One of them is so smart that she moved to California, which I hear is just as sunny as Florida but not as humid.) I learned that you can fit nearly a dozen people around your dinner table, and when most of them are drinking grown-up juice, they end up singing. I believe that this tendency is genetic, a fact that would explain why I enjoy throwing back a few ounces of juice before vocalizing my cheerful mood melodically and swaying to and fro with my hands above my head. It's good to know that I am not alone in this love of making joyous noises.
Thanks to the extra time spent with you and Bubbie this week, I learned to get myself safely down a set of stairs. Going up was useful to a certain extent, but I didn't like feeling high and dry, unable to return to my starting position. This week, to everyone's surprise and delight, I decided to employ in a new setting the "feet first" rule that Mommy insists on enforcing when I go down the one small step into her closet. On my tummy, facing the top of the stairs, I now know how to stretch my legs down until they reach the next step, and I can repeat the process until I am safely on the floor. Like any new skill, this one requires honing, so I will practice on your stairs until I am a pro. Maybe then you'll let me ascend the second part of the staircase and finally enter your office. A girl can dream, right?
Down and out,
Zelda
This week I learned that Daddy can stay home during week days. He calls this phenomenon his "staycation." I noticed that he spent most of his week away from work playing with me, cleaning the house, and running errands, which made me wonder who was really getting a break from the daily grind - Daddy or Mommy. It sure was grand to have him home all day, and to celebrate, I made sure to stay up late a few nights so we could build and destroy Duplo edifices and listen to his relaxing iTunes playlists, full of Bach and Miles Davis, well into the wee hours of the morning. I hope he feels as though we made the most of each day (and night). I wouldn't want him to go back to work feeling like we'd squandered the opportunity to spend every waking moment together. After all, it's not like he and Mommy had anything to do that wouldn't involve me.
This week I learned that our Canadian family members are smart enough to spend part of the winter here, where it's warm. (One of them is so smart that she moved to California, which I hear is just as sunny as Florida but not as humid.) I learned that you can fit nearly a dozen people around your dinner table, and when most of them are drinking grown-up juice, they end up singing. I believe that this tendency is genetic, a fact that would explain why I enjoy throwing back a few ounces of juice before vocalizing my cheerful mood melodically and swaying to and fro with my hands above my head. It's good to know that I am not alone in this love of making joyous noises.
Thanks to the extra time spent with you and Bubbie this week, I learned to get myself safely down a set of stairs. Going up was useful to a certain extent, but I didn't like feeling high and dry, unable to return to my starting position. This week, to everyone's surprise and delight, I decided to employ in a new setting the "feet first" rule that Mommy insists on enforcing when I go down the one small step into her closet. On my tummy, facing the top of the stairs, I now know how to stretch my legs down until they reach the next step, and I can repeat the process until I am safely on the floor. Like any new skill, this one requires honing, so I will practice on your stairs until I am a pro. Maybe then you'll let me ascend the second part of the staircase and finally enter your office. A girl can dream, right?
Down and out,
Zelda
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Year 2: Week 3
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned what blood tastes like. It's not a pleasant taste; that's for sure, and it is accompanied by the forceful collision of my chin and a hard surface such as a coffee table. I was in pain, of course, and I let it be known that I was not happy about face-planting into a wooden piece of furniture, but I recovered a lot faster than Mommy did. Sucking on a piece of ice wrapped in a towel and watching my favorite animated story on Daddy's phone made me forget about the incident, but I could tell that Mommy was not as easily soothed and needed extra cuddling. She really needs to learn to move on following adversity.
This week I learned that I do not like snow. Mommy and Grandma took me to a church in our neighborhood that hosts a "snow fest" each year. I have known for some time that I enjoy playing with ice cubes. Whenever I hear someone open the freezer, I scurry over to dip my hand in the ice bucket. I like to taste the cubes, one by one, and replace them into the bucket where they belong. Mommy doesn't seem to want me to put them back, which I find odd because she's always trying to get me to put my toys back in their bins. Will that woman ever make up her mind? Regardless, I think it is my propensity for touching ice that made Mommy think I would enjoy a festival dedicated to snow. When we arrived, I wasn't as excited about the situation as she had hoped. What I saw was a bunch of kids standing on piles of white stuff, sometimes picking it up and throwing it at each other. I was offered the opportunity to join them, but I declined. Grandma handed me some "snow," which looked remarkably like shaved ice, but I was in no mood to hold something that would make my hands cold, so I again politely refused the offer, making my patented "sour puss" face for good measure. That was pretty much the extent of my first "snow fest."
This week brought a lot of reminders that adults are obsessed with walking. It's really all they ever talk about. "When are you walking?" "Is she walking yet?" "Walk to me!" Yeah, right. As if I would tell anyone when I plan on walking. That would completely ruin the surprise. It will happen when I am good and ready and not a moment sooner. Until then, I shall continue to build dramatic tension as everyone watches and waits.
Not yet,
Zelda
This week I learned what blood tastes like. It's not a pleasant taste; that's for sure, and it is accompanied by the forceful collision of my chin and a hard surface such as a coffee table. I was in pain, of course, and I let it be known that I was not happy about face-planting into a wooden piece of furniture, but I recovered a lot faster than Mommy did. Sucking on a piece of ice wrapped in a towel and watching my favorite animated story on Daddy's phone made me forget about the incident, but I could tell that Mommy was not as easily soothed and needed extra cuddling. She really needs to learn to move on following adversity.
This week I learned that I do not like snow. Mommy and Grandma took me to a church in our neighborhood that hosts a "snow fest" each year. I have known for some time that I enjoy playing with ice cubes. Whenever I hear someone open the freezer, I scurry over to dip my hand in the ice bucket. I like to taste the cubes, one by one, and replace them into the bucket where they belong. Mommy doesn't seem to want me to put them back, which I find odd because she's always trying to get me to put my toys back in their bins. Will that woman ever make up her mind? Regardless, I think it is my propensity for touching ice that made Mommy think I would enjoy a festival dedicated to snow. When we arrived, I wasn't as excited about the situation as she had hoped. What I saw was a bunch of kids standing on piles of white stuff, sometimes picking it up and throwing it at each other. I was offered the opportunity to join them, but I declined. Grandma handed me some "snow," which looked remarkably like shaved ice, but I was in no mood to hold something that would make my hands cold, so I again politely refused the offer, making my patented "sour puss" face for good measure. That was pretty much the extent of my first "snow fest."
This week brought a lot of reminders that adults are obsessed with walking. It's really all they ever talk about. "When are you walking?" "Is she walking yet?" "Walk to me!" Yeah, right. As if I would tell anyone when I plan on walking. That would completely ruin the surprise. It will happen when I am good and ready and not a moment sooner. Until then, I shall continue to build dramatic tension as everyone watches and waits.
Not yet,
Zelda
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Year 2: Week 2
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that I am photogenic. Mommy hired a professional photographer to work his magic one afternoon at the beach. His name is Ricky, and he and Mommy went to high school together about a million years ago. Before we set out, Mommy packed a few outfits for me because every photo shoot requires costume changes. I learned that the "golden hour" occurs when the sun is low in the western sky, and that's the best time to capture the warm hue of my milky skin and the brilliance of my blue eyes. I learned to pose for the camera, to look straight at the lens and think deep thoughts so as to communicate my philosophical nature with a certain gleam in my twinkling eyes and the nuanced shape of my slightly pouting lips. The photographer was adamant about making me smile: he made goofy faces, quirky noises, and even clapped his feet together as he lay belly down in the sand and aimed his fancy camera at me. I threw him a bone and smiled for a few shots, but we all know that fashion models don't smile in those magazine ads. It's all about portraying a sophisticated image to meet the demands of a discerning market segment. I'm not sure what product we plan to sell with these photos, but I can guarantee that the discriminating baby will understand that she needs whatever I'm peddling.
This week I learned that Mommy has been holding me the wrong way. That's why her back and legs and hips hurt all the time. She's supposed to hold me with both arms and keep me centered against her chest and tummy, but she usually flings me onto her left hip so she can "do things" with her right hand. What she doesn't understand is that holding me is "doing something," and she doesn't need to multitask so often. Of course, if she puts me down while she's trying to clean up from lunch or make a phone call or empty the dishwasher, I will protest loudly and with emotional vigor. She's just going to have to figure out how to both hold me whenever I want and complete household tasks simultaneously.
Speaking of being held, this week I learned that sometimes I want to be held, but at the same time I want to be put down on the ground. Often, I want to be held by Daddy, but I also want Mommy to hold me. This is similar to the times that I want to hold my toy and hand it to someone. I enjoy the give-and-take, but mostly I enjoy having all the toys in my grasp. Or spread out all over the floor.
On Saturday, I celebrated the last of my birthday parties, and I learned that Mommy and Daddy's friends give excellent gifts. Auntie Lisa gave me a doll that came from a head lettuce or something like that. Apparently all the grown ups in the room (even the boys!) had one of these dolls when they were kids in the 1980s, which I think occurred in ancient times, like when the pyramids were built and when fire was discovered. One of Daddy's more forward-thinking friends brought me a stuffed dog that can hold an iPhone in its tummy. Mommy downloaded more apps for me, and now I can learn about shapes, numbers, and letters while interacting with the dog. This had led to my understanding that I am a true child of the 21st century, unlike my aging and retro-minded parents. So far, my favorite gift from that party has been a set of colorful gears that Auntie April said is my introduction to simple machines. I don't know what she's talking about, but I do know that the gears move each other, can be separated, and taste great, so I'm a fan.
Simply,
Zelda
This week I learned that I am photogenic. Mommy hired a professional photographer to work his magic one afternoon at the beach. His name is Ricky, and he and Mommy went to high school together about a million years ago. Before we set out, Mommy packed a few outfits for me because every photo shoot requires costume changes. I learned that the "golden hour" occurs when the sun is low in the western sky, and that's the best time to capture the warm hue of my milky skin and the brilliance of my blue eyes. I learned to pose for the camera, to look straight at the lens and think deep thoughts so as to communicate my philosophical nature with a certain gleam in my twinkling eyes and the nuanced shape of my slightly pouting lips. The photographer was adamant about making me smile: he made goofy faces, quirky noises, and even clapped his feet together as he lay belly down in the sand and aimed his fancy camera at me. I threw him a bone and smiled for a few shots, but we all know that fashion models don't smile in those magazine ads. It's all about portraying a sophisticated image to meet the demands of a discerning market segment. I'm not sure what product we plan to sell with these photos, but I can guarantee that the discriminating baby will understand that she needs whatever I'm peddling.
This week I learned that Mommy has been holding me the wrong way. That's why her back and legs and hips hurt all the time. She's supposed to hold me with both arms and keep me centered against her chest and tummy, but she usually flings me onto her left hip so she can "do things" with her right hand. What she doesn't understand is that holding me is "doing something," and she doesn't need to multitask so often. Of course, if she puts me down while she's trying to clean up from lunch or make a phone call or empty the dishwasher, I will protest loudly and with emotional vigor. She's just going to have to figure out how to both hold me whenever I want and complete household tasks simultaneously.
Speaking of being held, this week I learned that sometimes I want to be held, but at the same time I want to be put down on the ground. Often, I want to be held by Daddy, but I also want Mommy to hold me. This is similar to the times that I want to hold my toy and hand it to someone. I enjoy the give-and-take, but mostly I enjoy having all the toys in my grasp. Or spread out all over the floor.
On Saturday, I celebrated the last of my birthday parties, and I learned that Mommy and Daddy's friends give excellent gifts. Auntie Lisa gave me a doll that came from a head lettuce or something like that. Apparently all the grown ups in the room (even the boys!) had one of these dolls when they were kids in the 1980s, which I think occurred in ancient times, like when the pyramids were built and when fire was discovered. One of Daddy's more forward-thinking friends brought me a stuffed dog that can hold an iPhone in its tummy. Mommy downloaded more apps for me, and now I can learn about shapes, numbers, and letters while interacting with the dog. This had led to my understanding that I am a true child of the 21st century, unlike my aging and retro-minded parents. So far, my favorite gift from that party has been a set of colorful gears that Auntie April said is my introduction to simple machines. I don't know what she's talking about, but I do know that the gears move each other, can be separated, and taste great, so I'm a fan.
Simply,
Zelda
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Year 2: Week 1
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about candles. Some candles, like the ones on birthday cakes, are meant to be extinguished by forceful blowing. Other candles, like the ones in a menorah, are meant to burn all the way down until they are puddles of wax that Mommy has to scrape off the counter. All candles are mesmerizing, and none of them "are for touching." I think that covers everything I know about candles.
This week I learned about Thanksgiving. Last year, I wasn't around for this annual feast, but this year I was happy to partake in the tradition of stuffing myself with turkey. I also got to try the green beans, carrots, parsnip, and brussels sprouts, all of which were roasted to perfection. Cranberry sauce is a new favorite of mine; who knew something could be so sweet and so tart at the same time? I learned that Thanksgiving is a time for lots of my relatives to come to our house, where they talk loudly and pile food on their plates and eat heartily until they "can't eat another bite," at which time dessert is served, and everyone has at least one slice of pie. All this has something to do with Indians, but I haven't yet connected the dots, so I will ask Mommy's friend Kanchan when I see her this week. Her family is from India, so I'm sure she will know why we celebrate Thanksgiving.
As a corollary to Thanksgiving, I learned that I can eat turkey at least twice a day for an entire week, and despite what my parents were hoping, it doesn't make me sleepy at all. Speaking of not being sleepy, I have learned recently that I can survive on just one nap a day. I'm sure Mommy is thrilled to be able to play with me a few extra hours each day. I can see the excitement in her glassy eyes.
This week I learned that chairs and pianos come in Zelda-sized options. For my birthday, my parents presented me with a soft armchair. I know it's just for me because it has my name on it. I also know that it's just for me because Daddy tried to sit in it, but he didn't quite fit. The piano doesn't have as many keys as Mommy's piano, but it has my name on it, too, and I can sit or stand to play it anytime I want. I'm working on a sonata right now. It has a lot of minor chords.
This week has been full of family and food, just the way I like it. I think I'd like to have two holidays and a birthday party every week.
Celebrating,
Zelda
This week I learned about candles. Some candles, like the ones on birthday cakes, are meant to be extinguished by forceful blowing. Other candles, like the ones in a menorah, are meant to burn all the way down until they are puddles of wax that Mommy has to scrape off the counter. All candles are mesmerizing, and none of them "are for touching." I think that covers everything I know about candles.
This week I learned about Thanksgiving. Last year, I wasn't around for this annual feast, but this year I was happy to partake in the tradition of stuffing myself with turkey. I also got to try the green beans, carrots, parsnip, and brussels sprouts, all of which were roasted to perfection. Cranberry sauce is a new favorite of mine; who knew something could be so sweet and so tart at the same time? I learned that Thanksgiving is a time for lots of my relatives to come to our house, where they talk loudly and pile food on their plates and eat heartily until they "can't eat another bite," at which time dessert is served, and everyone has at least one slice of pie. All this has something to do with Indians, but I haven't yet connected the dots, so I will ask Mommy's friend Kanchan when I see her this week. Her family is from India, so I'm sure she will know why we celebrate Thanksgiving.
As a corollary to Thanksgiving, I learned that I can eat turkey at least twice a day for an entire week, and despite what my parents were hoping, it doesn't make me sleepy at all. Speaking of not being sleepy, I have learned recently that I can survive on just one nap a day. I'm sure Mommy is thrilled to be able to play with me a few extra hours each day. I can see the excitement in her glassy eyes.
This week I learned that chairs and pianos come in Zelda-sized options. For my birthday, my parents presented me with a soft armchair. I know it's just for me because it has my name on it. I also know that it's just for me because Daddy tried to sit in it, but he didn't quite fit. The piano doesn't have as many keys as Mommy's piano, but it has my name on it, too, and I can sit or stand to play it anytime I want. I'm working on a sonata right now. It has a lot of minor chords.
This week has been full of family and food, just the way I like it. I think I'd like to have two holidays and a birthday party every week.
Celebrating,
Zelda
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Week 52
Dear Zayde,
This week, as you know already, I learned how to climb stairs. On Tuesday when I visited you and Bubbe, I wasn't quite ready to climb; I touched the stairs, and I contemplated the stairs, and I yelled at the stairs so that they would tell me their secrets, but it wasn't until our visit on Thursday that I knew it was high time get a few feet off the ground. You all looked pleasantly surprised when I figured out how to get my foot onto the first step, which allowed me to pull with my hands and push with my feet until I was all the way up. Once I'd conquered the first step, it was a only a short time until I'd made it to the top of the landing. I'm happy on that landing, where I can see out the window and wave at the people coming and going, but you know first hand how much I want to go up the next set of stairs, the ones that lead to your office. I am certain that glorious things occur up there, and I am incredulous that no one will let me go up there. What good are stairs if I'm not allowed to exercise my newfound ability to climb to the top? I'd like to start an open dialogue and negotiate the terms by which I might be permitted to climb anywhere, anytime. I believe that under the right circumstances, we can find a happy compromise. If Iran and the West can find middle ground with a nuclear program agreement, surely you and I can find a way to end these climbing sanctions.
This week I learned that Mommy really hates the Miami Airport. A lot. She particularly hates it at 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night, when she is tired after a week without Daddy at home. I joined her in her displeasure, and in order to vocalize my empathy, I dutifully wailed while we parked semi-illegally near the baggage claim and waited for Daddy to emerge. When he finally threw his bags in the trunk and sat in the backseat with me, I was able to relax and smile and eventually fall asleep. Of course, when we got home, I had plenty of energy to play with Daddy until after midnight. I wanted to make up for the lost time. I'm sure he appreciated the effort.
This week I learned about birthday candles and birthday presents and the birthday song. I haven't had a birthday party yet, but I predict it will be at least as fun as climbing stairs. On Saturday, Grandma, Savtah, and my Tios brought me presents, which included new sets of Duplos. I'm starting to realize that these blocks are really for Daddy and his brothers, considering how much time they spent sitting on my play mat and building airplanes, trains, and ships. At least they let me act as the official wrecking crew for all their building projects. Later that day, when it was just us three at home, Mommy and Daddy stuck a pink candle in one of my favorite chocolate cookies and sang the same song to me three times, once in English, once in Hebrew, and once in Spanish. I was more impressed with the flickering flame than their harmonizing.
This week I learned how to measure a year. First, you start by counting the days. When you get to seven, you have a week. Then you start to count the weeks. That's what we've been doing with these letters. We've been counting the weeks. Now that we are at 52, we have made a year. The whole world has traveled around the sun in that time. The seasons have changed. We have celebrated every holiday. We are all one year older. This year has been my story; with these letters I have counted all the weeks of my life so far. Thank you for reading my story, Zayde.
One and counting,
Zelda
This week, as you know already, I learned how to climb stairs. On Tuesday when I visited you and Bubbe, I wasn't quite ready to climb; I touched the stairs, and I contemplated the stairs, and I yelled at the stairs so that they would tell me their secrets, but it wasn't until our visit on Thursday that I knew it was high time get a few feet off the ground. You all looked pleasantly surprised when I figured out how to get my foot onto the first step, which allowed me to pull with my hands and push with my feet until I was all the way up. Once I'd conquered the first step, it was a only a short time until I'd made it to the top of the landing. I'm happy on that landing, where I can see out the window and wave at the people coming and going, but you know first hand how much I want to go up the next set of stairs, the ones that lead to your office. I am certain that glorious things occur up there, and I am incredulous that no one will let me go up there. What good are stairs if I'm not allowed to exercise my newfound ability to climb to the top? I'd like to start an open dialogue and negotiate the terms by which I might be permitted to climb anywhere, anytime. I believe that under the right circumstances, we can find a happy compromise. If Iran and the West can find middle ground with a nuclear program agreement, surely you and I can find a way to end these climbing sanctions.
This week I learned that Mommy really hates the Miami Airport. A lot. She particularly hates it at 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night, when she is tired after a week without Daddy at home. I joined her in her displeasure, and in order to vocalize my empathy, I dutifully wailed while we parked semi-illegally near the baggage claim and waited for Daddy to emerge. When he finally threw his bags in the trunk and sat in the backseat with me, I was able to relax and smile and eventually fall asleep. Of course, when we got home, I had plenty of energy to play with Daddy until after midnight. I wanted to make up for the lost time. I'm sure he appreciated the effort.
This week I learned about birthday candles and birthday presents and the birthday song. I haven't had a birthday party yet, but I predict it will be at least as fun as climbing stairs. On Saturday, Grandma, Savtah, and my Tios brought me presents, which included new sets of Duplos. I'm starting to realize that these blocks are really for Daddy and his brothers, considering how much time they spent sitting on my play mat and building airplanes, trains, and ships. At least they let me act as the official wrecking crew for all their building projects. Later that day, when it was just us three at home, Mommy and Daddy stuck a pink candle in one of my favorite chocolate cookies and sang the same song to me three times, once in English, once in Hebrew, and once in Spanish. I was more impressed with the flickering flame than their harmonizing.
This week I learned how to measure a year. First, you start by counting the days. When you get to seven, you have a week. Then you start to count the weeks. That's what we've been doing with these letters. We've been counting the weeks. Now that we are at 52, we have made a year. The whole world has traveled around the sun in that time. The seasons have changed. We have celebrated every holiday. We are all one year older. This year has been my story; with these letters I have counted all the weeks of my life so far. Thank you for reading my story, Zayde.
One and counting,
Zelda
Friday, November 15, 2013
Week 51
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about chocolate. I'd already tasted a chocolate cookie a few times, but this was different. This was a piece of chocolate all by itself. It smeared a little on my hands and on my cheeks, but most of it made it into my mouth, where my taste buds enjoyed an explosion of awesomeness. I learned that I am a huge fan of chocolate, and I hope that Mommy keeps the house stocked with these magical brown bars. She was using the chocolate to make something called a "birthday cake," and although I'm not yet sure what that means, I am going to make a prediction that if it involves chocolate, it will be another spectacular tasting experience.
I also learned about Cheerios this week. They're like puffs, but with just the right amount of crunch. I may only have two bottom teeth (still working on the top two), but that doesn't stop me from enjoying a nice crunch between my surprisingly sharp gums. Mommy says that every kid eats Cheerios, that they're some sort of rite of passage. I guess that means I'm a kid now and no longer a baby. So when do I get to stop wearing diapers?
Speaking of being a big kid, this week I learned that I am capable of sitting at a kid-sized table in a kid-sized chair instead of in a high chair. While visiting Mommy's friend, Lily, and my friends, Eric and Gabe, I sat at a table with Eric. He's my boyfriend. (As is Gabe. And a few others, including Colin and AJ and Jordy.) Eric is an older man; he attends preschool and sleeps in a big boy bed and uses the potty all by himself. I'm kind of in awe of him, especially when he's playing with his Legos and actually builds things instead of just taking them apart. Mommy let me munch on my snack with Eric at the kids' table. I was very careful not to fall out of my seat, and I only dropped about one fifth of my food on the floor. Later, Gabe and I crawled around the house chasing Eric. I played and learned so much that when it was time to drive home, I was asleep before we reached the end of their street.
It's great to have you and Bubbe back in town. It's even greater that Bubbe let me play with her "tablet," which I learned is like a phone but with a much bigger screen. It was awfully kind of her to let me play a game on the tablet that involved so much touching. As you know, I really do love touching. It's my second favorite activity, right after tasting. (Previous to this week, touching was my favorite, but then I tried the aforementioned chocolate.)
See you soon,
Zelda
This week I learned about chocolate. I'd already tasted a chocolate cookie a few times, but this was different. This was a piece of chocolate all by itself. It smeared a little on my hands and on my cheeks, but most of it made it into my mouth, where my taste buds enjoyed an explosion of awesomeness. I learned that I am a huge fan of chocolate, and I hope that Mommy keeps the house stocked with these magical brown bars. She was using the chocolate to make something called a "birthday cake," and although I'm not yet sure what that means, I am going to make a prediction that if it involves chocolate, it will be another spectacular tasting experience.
I also learned about Cheerios this week. They're like puffs, but with just the right amount of crunch. I may only have two bottom teeth (still working on the top two), but that doesn't stop me from enjoying a nice crunch between my surprisingly sharp gums. Mommy says that every kid eats Cheerios, that they're some sort of rite of passage. I guess that means I'm a kid now and no longer a baby. So when do I get to stop wearing diapers?
Speaking of being a big kid, this week I learned that I am capable of sitting at a kid-sized table in a kid-sized chair instead of in a high chair. While visiting Mommy's friend, Lily, and my friends, Eric and Gabe, I sat at a table with Eric. He's my boyfriend. (As is Gabe. And a few others, including Colin and AJ and Jordy.) Eric is an older man; he attends preschool and sleeps in a big boy bed and uses the potty all by himself. I'm kind of in awe of him, especially when he's playing with his Legos and actually builds things instead of just taking them apart. Mommy let me munch on my snack with Eric at the kids' table. I was very careful not to fall out of my seat, and I only dropped about one fifth of my food on the floor. Later, Gabe and I crawled around the house chasing Eric. I played and learned so much that when it was time to drive home, I was asleep before we reached the end of their street.
It's great to have you and Bubbe back in town. It's even greater that Bubbe let me play with her "tablet," which I learned is like a phone but with a much bigger screen. It was awfully kind of her to let me play a game on the tablet that involved so much touching. As you know, I really do love touching. It's my second favorite activity, right after tasting. (Previous to this week, touching was my favorite, but then I tried the aforementioned chocolate.)
See you soon,
Zelda
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Week 50
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that hair can be cut. I also learned that the reason the world looked like I was viewing it from behind a bunch of yellow strings is because my Mommy was in denial about the fact that hair can be cut. Like trying to put a band-aid on a bursting water pipe, she attempted to keep my bangs out of my face with headbands and barrettes. That's how I learned that headbands are annoying on the head but delicious in the mouth. I also learned how to remove a barrette by carefully sliding it down my scalp until it is safe in my hand and then immediately in my mouth. After a few weeks of this routine, Mommy gave up and took me to see Anna.
Mommy has known Anna for a long time. She taught Anna's son when he was in elementary school, and Anna has been cutting Mommy's hair since then. When my parents got married, Anna made Mommy extra pretty for the big event. I overheard them reminiscing about all this while I sat on Mommy's lap and she sat in a super fun swivel chair. Please correct me if I am mistaken, but the fact that my parents had to become married at some point means that there was a time when they weren't married? A time before me? A time when they didn't even know each other? I can't see how this is possible; perhaps I misunderstood the conversation.
Grandma took pictures as Anna brought her scissors awfully close to my face. They all seemed really excited about what was happening, and I didn't understand the hoopla until Anna was finished, and I realized that I was no longer looking at the world through my bangs. In that moment, everything got a whole lot less annoying. No more head shaking! No more grown-ups brushing my hair across my forehead! No more headbands! I did get a free barrette, adorned with a pink flower, to commemorate the occasion. I let them put it in my hair for a few pictures, but then it was time to be accessory-free. I feel lighter already.
Yesterday, I learned that I have cousins who live in Costa Rica and Colombia. One of them is a little boy as blond as I am. He liked my pink monkey, and everyone was shocked that I let him play with it without a fuss. What they failed to realize is that I used the opportunity to grab his toy cowboy off the table for a quick taste. That's when I learned that "boy" toys are just as yummy as "girl" toys. Savtah let me sit on her lap while I fed myself grapes. There was a lot of other good looking food there, but it was apparently "not for Zelda," a phrase that I increasingly find confusing and bothersome. Across the table, one of my cousins, who is about three years old, let his nanny feed him lunch. She held his fork, and he sat there with his mouth open, like a baby bird. That's when I learned that some kids don't like being in charge of their own meals. As you know, I am not one of those kids.
Speaking of feeding myself, I am learning how to get a spoonful of peanut butter into my mouth without first smearing it elsewhere. Sometimes it's a smooth ride right onto my waiting tongue, but other times the spoon has a mind of its own and ends up in some strange places, like on my hands and cheeks, or in my hair. This week I learned that forks are useful, too. Mommy put a piece of turkey on the end of a fork and let me guide it into my mouth. It was quite a revelation that this process works almost as well as using my hands, but I must admit that I don't see the advantage of this method. If my fingers can do the job, why complicate things with an intermediary tool? When it comes to eating, efficiency is my motto. (Despite what all the food on the ground might imply.) I've been watching adults use silverware at every meal, but I haven't yet figured out the allure. I'm always eager to try new things, however, so I will play this game if Mommy wants me to. Her dinner conversation is getting repetitive, so learning to pick up food with something other than my hands will offer a pleasant distraction from her boring banter about the day's events. Now if only she'd let me use one of those knives, things could get really interesting...
Your little cut-up,
Zelda
This week I learned that hair can be cut. I also learned that the reason the world looked like I was viewing it from behind a bunch of yellow strings is because my Mommy was in denial about the fact that hair can be cut. Like trying to put a band-aid on a bursting water pipe, she attempted to keep my bangs out of my face with headbands and barrettes. That's how I learned that headbands are annoying on the head but delicious in the mouth. I also learned how to remove a barrette by carefully sliding it down my scalp until it is safe in my hand and then immediately in my mouth. After a few weeks of this routine, Mommy gave up and took me to see Anna.
Mommy has known Anna for a long time. She taught Anna's son when he was in elementary school, and Anna has been cutting Mommy's hair since then. When my parents got married, Anna made Mommy extra pretty for the big event. I overheard them reminiscing about all this while I sat on Mommy's lap and she sat in a super fun swivel chair. Please correct me if I am mistaken, but the fact that my parents had to become married at some point means that there was a time when they weren't married? A time before me? A time when they didn't even know each other? I can't see how this is possible; perhaps I misunderstood the conversation.
Grandma took pictures as Anna brought her scissors awfully close to my face. They all seemed really excited about what was happening, and I didn't understand the hoopla until Anna was finished, and I realized that I was no longer looking at the world through my bangs. In that moment, everything got a whole lot less annoying. No more head shaking! No more grown-ups brushing my hair across my forehead! No more headbands! I did get a free barrette, adorned with a pink flower, to commemorate the occasion. I let them put it in my hair for a few pictures, but then it was time to be accessory-free. I feel lighter already.
Yesterday, I learned that I have cousins who live in Costa Rica and Colombia. One of them is a little boy as blond as I am. He liked my pink monkey, and everyone was shocked that I let him play with it without a fuss. What they failed to realize is that I used the opportunity to grab his toy cowboy off the table for a quick taste. That's when I learned that "boy" toys are just as yummy as "girl" toys. Savtah let me sit on her lap while I fed myself grapes. There was a lot of other good looking food there, but it was apparently "not for Zelda," a phrase that I increasingly find confusing and bothersome. Across the table, one of my cousins, who is about three years old, let his nanny feed him lunch. She held his fork, and he sat there with his mouth open, like a baby bird. That's when I learned that some kids don't like being in charge of their own meals. As you know, I am not one of those kids.
Speaking of feeding myself, I am learning how to get a spoonful of peanut butter into my mouth without first smearing it elsewhere. Sometimes it's a smooth ride right onto my waiting tongue, but other times the spoon has a mind of its own and ends up in some strange places, like on my hands and cheeks, or in my hair. This week I learned that forks are useful, too. Mommy put a piece of turkey on the end of a fork and let me guide it into my mouth. It was quite a revelation that this process works almost as well as using my hands, but I must admit that I don't see the advantage of this method. If my fingers can do the job, why complicate things with an intermediary tool? When it comes to eating, efficiency is my motto. (Despite what all the food on the ground might imply.) I've been watching adults use silverware at every meal, but I haven't yet figured out the allure. I'm always eager to try new things, however, so I will play this game if Mommy wants me to. Her dinner conversation is getting repetitive, so learning to pick up food with something other than my hands will offer a pleasant distraction from her boring banter about the day's events. Now if only she'd let me use one of those knives, things could get really interesting...
Your little cut-up,
Zelda
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Week 49
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that we live near islands. Mommy and her friend Auntie Camille took me on an adventure to visit Auntie Effie, who lives in the Keys. (I don't know where the Locks are, but when I find out, I'll let you know.) The ride was long enough for an excellent nap, and when we arrived, I knew I was somewhere special. There was water to the left, water to the right, and a pleasant breeze from every direction. Effie lives in a pink house, which might seem odd in a place like New Jersey but fits right in among the other homes near the water. We enjoyed a delightful brunch on the dockside patio of a local eatery, where I nibbled on the contents of a fresh fruit cup. Then we lounged back at the house before posing for the usual commemorative snapshots and finally heading home. I vowed to stay alert during the return trip to scope out the scenery, but there's something about the rhythmic swaying of the car and the soft contours of my seat that made another nap inevitable.
Later this week, I learned that on one special night each year, people dress in scary and/or funny costumes to roam the streets in search of candy. Mommy dressed me up as Princess Zelda, which I think defeats the purpose of the holiday. Why dress as myself? Regardless, I suppose it was an excellent excuse to wear a pink onesie and tights along with a gold tutu and sparkly headband-as-crown, and now that I know what kind of response I get from friends and strangers when I wear such attire, I might need to do so weekly. The evening's event was called "Halloween" but has nothing to do with an empty end to breastfeeding. Mommy had a big bowl full of candy that she gave to the children who knocked on our door, but she never offered any to me. I guess we can add candy to the list of things I now understand are "not for babies."
Speaking of being a baby, the good news is that I won't be one for much longer. Now that I'm so close to walking, I'm told that I'm soon to earn a new title: toddler. In an effort to speed up the process, I'm taking laps around the coffee table every day and have mastered the art of standing upright for a few seconds before returning to a crawling stance. I hope to be toddling by the end of the month and running amok by the new year.
Tutu cute,
Zelda
This week I learned that we live near islands. Mommy and her friend Auntie Camille took me on an adventure to visit Auntie Effie, who lives in the Keys. (I don't know where the Locks are, but when I find out, I'll let you know.) The ride was long enough for an excellent nap, and when we arrived, I knew I was somewhere special. There was water to the left, water to the right, and a pleasant breeze from every direction. Effie lives in a pink house, which might seem odd in a place like New Jersey but fits right in among the other homes near the water. We enjoyed a delightful brunch on the dockside patio of a local eatery, where I nibbled on the contents of a fresh fruit cup. Then we lounged back at the house before posing for the usual commemorative snapshots and finally heading home. I vowed to stay alert during the return trip to scope out the scenery, but there's something about the rhythmic swaying of the car and the soft contours of my seat that made another nap inevitable.
Later this week, I learned that on one special night each year, people dress in scary and/or funny costumes to roam the streets in search of candy. Mommy dressed me up as Princess Zelda, which I think defeats the purpose of the holiday. Why dress as myself? Regardless, I suppose it was an excellent excuse to wear a pink onesie and tights along with a gold tutu and sparkly headband-as-crown, and now that I know what kind of response I get from friends and strangers when I wear such attire, I might need to do so weekly. The evening's event was called "Halloween" but has nothing to do with an empty end to breastfeeding. Mommy had a big bowl full of candy that she gave to the children who knocked on our door, but she never offered any to me. I guess we can add candy to the list of things I now understand are "not for babies."
Speaking of being a baby, the good news is that I won't be one for much longer. Now that I'm so close to walking, I'm told that I'm soon to earn a new title: toddler. In an effort to speed up the process, I'm taking laps around the coffee table every day and have mastered the art of standing upright for a few seconds before returning to a crawling stance. I hope to be toddling by the end of the month and running amok by the new year.
Tutu cute,
Zelda
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Week 48
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that I can get my parents to do some hilarious things with their mouths. On Tuesday, I started with the "making raspberries" trick, but this time I stuck out my tongue at the same time so that I could effectively spray saliva onto whatever - or whomever - was nearby. After just one attempt, I had Mommy doing it, too, and that night Daddy joined in, as well. I have to hand it to them: they learn quickly. The next day, I decided to up the ante by making a similar
"pblpblpbl" sound with the aid of my hand running up and down my face. Lo and behold, by that evening, both of my oh-so-predictable parents were mimicking me. (They tend to use only one finger to move only their lips, but I still prefer a full-face/full-hand approach.) Emboldened by the previous days' successes, I went for the gold on Thursday: I smacked my lips. Puckering up and pressing my lips together creates the most wonderful kissing sound, and when I suck in my cheeks first (creating a sort of fishy-face), the sound can carry across the room. Sure enough, after just one demonstration of lip-smacking how-to, my obedient parents were following suit. How adorable is that?
By Friday, I was so impressed with my parents' progress that I decided to throw them a bone. For months, they've been trying to make me clap. Now, you and I both know that just because I don't do something doesn't mean that I can't do it; it's just that I have a very busy schedule and can't go around performing new tricks to entertain the masses all the time. Besides, clapping should be a celebratory gesture that denotes an above-and-beyond performance. During lunch that day, I finally felt that the time was ripe for a round of applause. While munching, I thought, "gee, this tofu is so delicious that I must express my pleasure with a hand gesture that creates noise." And I did. Mommy seemed shocked. Then she clapped, too. Then we clapped together. Oh, what a joyous sound! It was the perfect crescendo after fours days of nonstop parental training. Who says you can't teach old folks new tricks?
Speaking of getting older, this week I learned that completing a rotation around the sun is cause for celebration. I attended my friend Quinn's first birthday party, and I had a grand time. There were large trays of food, lots of people smiling, kids running around in the park, music playing, and oodles of balloons. The best part was the homemade baby ball pit, where I reigned supreme as the Keeper of All The Colors. While in the pit, I learned that I could coerce the older boys to give me the balls they were holding with nothing more than a reaching hand and a coy smile. I'm not sure how useful this new skill is right now, but I have a feeling it will come in handy someday.
Once every twelve months, apparently, each and every one of us gets to throw a party in honor of the day we were born. I don't remember a lot about my first day on the outside, but I do recall that I didn't do nearly as much work as Mommy. For my birthday next month, I think that we should throw a party in honor of Mommy's blood, sweat, and tears instead of celebrating my inevitable arrival. We should sing epic odes to her bravery and light fireworks to herald her fortitude as we parade through town atop white horses trailing a hundred feet of multicolored garlands.
Or everyone could eat cake and watch me rip open presents. That would be fun, too.
With cause for applause,
Zelda
This week I learned that I can get my parents to do some hilarious things with their mouths. On Tuesday, I started with the "making raspberries" trick, but this time I stuck out my tongue at the same time so that I could effectively spray saliva onto whatever - or whomever - was nearby. After just one attempt, I had Mommy doing it, too, and that night Daddy joined in, as well. I have to hand it to them: they learn quickly. The next day, I decided to up the ante by making a similar
"pblpblpbl" sound with the aid of my hand running up and down my face. Lo and behold, by that evening, both of my oh-so-predictable parents were mimicking me. (They tend to use only one finger to move only their lips, but I still prefer a full-face/full-hand approach.) Emboldened by the previous days' successes, I went for the gold on Thursday: I smacked my lips. Puckering up and pressing my lips together creates the most wonderful kissing sound, and when I suck in my cheeks first (creating a sort of fishy-face), the sound can carry across the room. Sure enough, after just one demonstration of lip-smacking how-to, my obedient parents were following suit. How adorable is that?
By Friday, I was so impressed with my parents' progress that I decided to throw them a bone. For months, they've been trying to make me clap. Now, you and I both know that just because I don't do something doesn't mean that I can't do it; it's just that I have a very busy schedule and can't go around performing new tricks to entertain the masses all the time. Besides, clapping should be a celebratory gesture that denotes an above-and-beyond performance. During lunch that day, I finally felt that the time was ripe for a round of applause. While munching, I thought, "gee, this tofu is so delicious that I must express my pleasure with a hand gesture that creates noise." And I did. Mommy seemed shocked. Then she clapped, too. Then we clapped together. Oh, what a joyous sound! It was the perfect crescendo after fours days of nonstop parental training. Who says you can't teach old folks new tricks?
Speaking of getting older, this week I learned that completing a rotation around the sun is cause for celebration. I attended my friend Quinn's first birthday party, and I had a grand time. There were large trays of food, lots of people smiling, kids running around in the park, music playing, and oodles of balloons. The best part was the homemade baby ball pit, where I reigned supreme as the Keeper of All The Colors. While in the pit, I learned that I could coerce the older boys to give me the balls they were holding with nothing more than a reaching hand and a coy smile. I'm not sure how useful this new skill is right now, but I have a feeling it will come in handy someday.
Or everyone could eat cake and watch me rip open presents. That would be fun, too.
With cause for applause,
Zelda
Friday, October 18, 2013
Weel 47
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned how to push my voice to its upper limits. Mommy calls it "screeching," but Grandma refers to it as the ungodly sound reminiscent of a pterodactyl rehearsing for its audition at a Chinese opera house. I've found that the best times to make this sound are when Mommy is on the phone or when her ears are very close to my mouth. Her reaction is priceless; I had no idea her eyes could roll so far back into her skull.
This week I also learned that being awake late at night is not just for newborns. Even almost-toddlers can enjoy the ambiance of the wee hours while playing, eating, and crying. The truth is, I have been doing this for a reason. (Mommy thinks I'm just teething, but there's more to the story.) I thought that if I could just postpone bedtime long enough, I would be awake when Daddy got home. However, it's hard to stay awake past 10:00 p.m., so I've been dozing during my usual bedtime for an hour or two and then waking up before midnight for a second try at waiting for Daddy. The trick is to wait until Mommy is in bed with the lights off. That's my cue to let her know I'm ready for another round of daily (and nightly!) fun.
This week we all learned that I'm tall enough to reach the piano keys, the top of the dining room table, the bottom of the window blinds, and the cable box. As I write this, Mommy is moving things to higher shelves. She's so selfish. I found out that there are glorious things in the kitchen cabinets, things that rattle and bang, things that "aren't for babies," as usual. Do your cabinets have shelves full of fun and somewhat naughty objects? If you're not sure, I'd be happy to inspect them for you.
As you know, I have a good deal of hair. What you might not know is that, until this week, Mommy had never really brushed my hair. I think she patted my head with her brush a few times over the last 47 weeks, but only now do I possess my very own brush and comb. It's amazing what a little coiffing can accomplish. Mommy was anti-barrette until now, too, but as of this month, I finally get to see past my bangs when she doesn't mind my looking too "girly." I don't expect her to dress me in bows and lace any time soon, but I'm happy to report that she's making progress.
I can see clearly now,
Zelda
This week I learned how to push my voice to its upper limits. Mommy calls it "screeching," but Grandma refers to it as the ungodly sound reminiscent of a pterodactyl rehearsing for its audition at a Chinese opera house. I've found that the best times to make this sound are when Mommy is on the phone or when her ears are very close to my mouth. Her reaction is priceless; I had no idea her eyes could roll so far back into her skull.
This week I also learned that being awake late at night is not just for newborns. Even almost-toddlers can enjoy the ambiance of the wee hours while playing, eating, and crying. The truth is, I have been doing this for a reason. (Mommy thinks I'm just teething, but there's more to the story.) I thought that if I could just postpone bedtime long enough, I would be awake when Daddy got home. However, it's hard to stay awake past 10:00 p.m., so I've been dozing during my usual bedtime for an hour or two and then waking up before midnight for a second try at waiting for Daddy. The trick is to wait until Mommy is in bed with the lights off. That's my cue to let her know I'm ready for another round of daily (and nightly!) fun.
This week we all learned that I'm tall enough to reach the piano keys, the top of the dining room table, the bottom of the window blinds, and the cable box. As I write this, Mommy is moving things to higher shelves. She's so selfish. I found out that there are glorious things in the kitchen cabinets, things that rattle and bang, things that "aren't for babies," as usual. Do your cabinets have shelves full of fun and somewhat naughty objects? If you're not sure, I'd be happy to inspect them for you.
As you know, I have a good deal of hair. What you might not know is that, until this week, Mommy had never really brushed my hair. I think she patted my head with her brush a few times over the last 47 weeks, but only now do I possess my very own brush and comb. It's amazing what a little coiffing can accomplish. Mommy was anti-barrette until now, too, but as of this month, I finally get to see past my bangs when she doesn't mind my looking too "girly." I don't expect her to dress me in bows and lace any time soon, but I'm happy to report that she's making progress.
I can see clearly now,
Zelda
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Week 46
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned to cruise. Sure, I've taken a ride on your boat, which some might consider my first experience with cruising, but I'm using the word in its pre-toddling sense. For a few weeks, I've been able to stand at the coffee table, place one hand on the couch, and then turn around to place my other hand there, too. That split second of holding onto a piece of furniture with only one hand at a time is exhilarating and has inspired me to try new ways of moving. (That new trick also earned me a sizable blister on each foot thanks to my tendency to shimmy and sway to various musical rhythms.) This week I made the metaphorical (and almost literal) leap that allows me to travel along the entire length of the coffee table. Of course, I only do so when I need to get my hands on someone's cell phone or the remote control. A journey without a destination is a waste of my precious time. I've transferred my new skill to the bookcase in my bedroom and plan to continue the trend with the piano bench in the near future. Please arrange your furniture accordingly so that I can practice cruising with you and Bubbi.
This week I learned about flat tires. The weather has been mighty fine now that the humidity is down from its summertime highs, and when it's not raining, the tropical breeze is a welcome companion during my daily neighborhood walks. One afternoon, Mommy and I were all set to embark upon another epic stroll when we noticed that my BOB jogging stroller wasn't riding quite right. Low and behold, we had a flat. I heard Mommy say another one of those not-so-nice words as she wheeled me back into the house and transferred me (and my toys) to our "regular" stroller. The next day, Mommy and I took the flat tire to a bicycle shop, where a nice man in a greasy shirt sold us a new 16 inch inner tube and was kind enough to inflate it and fit it into our tire. It turns out that our flat was caused by a mighty big thorn. I guess we will have to be more careful when we go off-roading.
I'm learning that Daddy really likes to travel. Not only did he join me for the last two weekends of out-of-state adventures, but right now I'm watching him pack his suitcases again. This time he's traveling "for work," which doesn't sound like much fun, but I guess it must be since Daddy keeps doing it. One of these days, I'm going to sneak into his suitcase and tag along for the ride.
I see that Mommy has left her cell phone unattended on the coffee table. Duty calls!
One step at a time,
Zelda
This week I learned to cruise. Sure, I've taken a ride on your boat, which some might consider my first experience with cruising, but I'm using the word in its pre-toddling sense. For a few weeks, I've been able to stand at the coffee table, place one hand on the couch, and then turn around to place my other hand there, too. That split second of holding onto a piece of furniture with only one hand at a time is exhilarating and has inspired me to try new ways of moving. (That new trick also earned me a sizable blister on each foot thanks to my tendency to shimmy and sway to various musical rhythms.) This week I made the metaphorical (and almost literal) leap that allows me to travel along the entire length of the coffee table. Of course, I only do so when I need to get my hands on someone's cell phone or the remote control. A journey without a destination is a waste of my precious time. I've transferred my new skill to the bookcase in my bedroom and plan to continue the trend with the piano bench in the near future. Please arrange your furniture accordingly so that I can practice cruising with you and Bubbi.
This week I learned about flat tires. The weather has been mighty fine now that the humidity is down from its summertime highs, and when it's not raining, the tropical breeze is a welcome companion during my daily neighborhood walks. One afternoon, Mommy and I were all set to embark upon another epic stroll when we noticed that my BOB jogging stroller wasn't riding quite right. Low and behold, we had a flat. I heard Mommy say another one of those not-so-nice words as she wheeled me back into the house and transferred me (and my toys) to our "regular" stroller. The next day, Mommy and I took the flat tire to a bicycle shop, where a nice man in a greasy shirt sold us a new 16 inch inner tube and was kind enough to inflate it and fit it into our tire. It turns out that our flat was caused by a mighty big thorn. I guess we will have to be more careful when we go off-roading.
I'm learning that Daddy really likes to travel. Not only did he join me for the last two weekends of out-of-state adventures, but right now I'm watching him pack his suitcases again. This time he's traveling "for work," which doesn't sound like much fun, but I guess it must be since Daddy keeps doing it. One of these days, I'm going to sneak into his suitcase and tag along for the ride.
I see that Mommy has left her cell phone unattended on the coffee table. Duty calls!
One step at a time,
Zelda
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Week 45
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that you and Bubbi are not, in fact, everywhere. I also learned the meaning of a "whirlwind vacation."
Just five days after returning from our visit to New Jersey, my parents and I (this time with Grandma!) were back at the airport. (During those five days, I learned that Mommy is a master packer and a feverish laundress. I also learned that it's possible to travel without getting sick, thanks to Mommy's obsessive use of baby wipes and hand sanitizer.) We headed back to the Mid-Atlantic, but this time we visited the historic city of Philadelphia.
I learned that Philadelphia also has many smoke stacks, as well as a bunch of bridges and something called "WaWa," which must be a watering hole for toddlers. The city is full of tall buildings and one way streets and sirens and people wearing much more clothing than they do in Florida.
That first day in Philadelphia, I learned that Andrea and her family live in a beautiful home that would be perfect if only it had a basement. I learned that my cousins have busy lives that require my aunt and uncle to drive them to fields and tracks during the weekends and after school. I also learned that their dog, Charlie, loves to eat crackers right out of my hand. Once she (yes, Charlie is a girl) figured out that I prefer to toss my unwanted food onto the ground, I had a permanent friend.
The next day, I learned that Mommy has "old" friends that live in Philadelphia. I noticed that they ride bikes and eat at sidewalk cafes and tell funny stories about Mommy. We met some of her friends at a magical place called The Please Touch Museum. As its name indicates, the building is full of things that I was allowed to touch. We spent a few hours there with Mommy's friends and their daughter, Kara. Some day I'll be big like Kara and will be able to ride my very own horse on the carousel while wearing a t-shirt that sports the image of a cat drawn with mathematical equations.
Back in West Philly, we let Grandma take a nap while Mommy, Daddy, and I visited Mommy's alma mater. I hear that you attended the same school. I must admit that I was impressed with the ivy covered edifices and the academic atmosphere, but I'm a baby, and I'm impressed by lights turning on and off. Mommy and I posed for pictures in front of the spots on campus that made her feel nostalgic. Then she and Daddy took me up to the top of one of the buildings. We rode a rickety elevator to the third floor of College Hall and then climbed a steep staircase before entering what she called "The Philo Halls." There were people milling around up there, chatting and smiling and even hugging. Mommy seemed truly happy to be there, and she got a far off look in her eyes, as though she were seeing something that happened long ago. I met more of her friends, and everyone commented that I look just like my Mommy. Up there in the Philomathean library, I learned that many buildings outside Florida do not have air conditioning, which I consider a barbaric state of being. Luckily, my parents agreed, and we soon returned to the hotel.
That night I learned that Mommy and Daddy can get dressed up two weekends in a row. I wonder when I will be invited along for one of these fancy evenings and whether I will be required to wear high heels, which Mommy swears are torture devices meant to keep women subservient.
On Sunday, I learned that I have the Greatest Aunt. After packing up all my toys and clothes, as well as the things the grown-ups brought on the trip, we drove across Philadelphia to have brunch with some of your extended family. I saw Uncle Mike and Aunt Helen again, and this time Mike let me honk his nose and grab his beard. We were joined by our cousins, Jackie and Howard, who were kind and shared stories of their grandchildren. The best part of the brunch, however, was meeting my Greatest Aunt. Her name is Esther, and she is Mommy's Great Aunt, which makes her my Greatest Aunt. (That's how Esther explained it to me, and I shall defer to her well-earned wisdom.) Esther has blond hair, just like Mommy and I, and when I tilted my head to get a better look at her, she tilted her head, too. She was so happy that she made me smile and giggle. Then we all ate bagels. It was wonderful!
After brunch, I learned that my parents like to cram as much fun into a vacation as they possibly can. Before heading to the airport, we drove to the oldest part of the city and walked on cobblestone streets amid Colonial row houses. That's where I learned that there are places much older than my neighborhood. I learned that the leaves on not-palm-trees can be colors other than green. As we strolled through the historic district, I saw a lot of people taking pictures of the buildings and foliage. The strange thing is that we didn't go inside any of the museums or historical sites. I saw guards in front of a big brick building called Independence Hall, and Grandma pointed to the signs on the fences and gates that kept us from walking past the sidewalks. There was a sense of missing out on something that clearly annoyed the grown-ups, but then we visited a big red building called the Bourse, and they ate some cheesesteaks (while I munched a cookie and had some milk), and everyone felt much better. Then it was time to head home, where Mommy once again tackled a mountain of laundry.
Now you know how I learned the meaning of "whirlwind vacation." I can't wait to see where Mommy and Daddy are taking me next weekend!
Six states down; forty-four to go,
Zelda
This week I learned that you and Bubbi are not, in fact, everywhere. I also learned the meaning of a "whirlwind vacation."
Just five days after returning from our visit to New Jersey, my parents and I (this time with Grandma!) were back at the airport. (During those five days, I learned that Mommy is a master packer and a feverish laundress. I also learned that it's possible to travel without getting sick, thanks to Mommy's obsessive use of baby wipes and hand sanitizer.) We headed back to the Mid-Atlantic, but this time we visited the historic city of Philadelphia.
I learned that Philadelphia also has many smoke stacks, as well as a bunch of bridges and something called "WaWa," which must be a watering hole for toddlers. The city is full of tall buildings and one way streets and sirens and people wearing much more clothing than they do in Florida.
That first day in Philadelphia, I learned that Andrea and her family live in a beautiful home that would be perfect if only it had a basement. I learned that my cousins have busy lives that require my aunt and uncle to drive them to fields and tracks during the weekends and after school. I also learned that their dog, Charlie, loves to eat crackers right out of my hand. Once she (yes, Charlie is a girl) figured out that I prefer to toss my unwanted food onto the ground, I had a permanent friend.
The next day, I learned that Mommy has "old" friends that live in Philadelphia. I noticed that they ride bikes and eat at sidewalk cafes and tell funny stories about Mommy. We met some of her friends at a magical place called The Please Touch Museum. As its name indicates, the building is full of things that I was allowed to touch. We spent a few hours there with Mommy's friends and their daughter, Kara. Some day I'll be big like Kara and will be able to ride my very own horse on the carousel while wearing a t-shirt that sports the image of a cat drawn with mathematical equations.
Back in West Philly, we let Grandma take a nap while Mommy, Daddy, and I visited Mommy's alma mater. I hear that you attended the same school. I must admit that I was impressed with the ivy covered edifices and the academic atmosphere, but I'm a baby, and I'm impressed by lights turning on and off. Mommy and I posed for pictures in front of the spots on campus that made her feel nostalgic. Then she and Daddy took me up to the top of one of the buildings. We rode a rickety elevator to the third floor of College Hall and then climbed a steep staircase before entering what she called "The Philo Halls." There were people milling around up there, chatting and smiling and even hugging. Mommy seemed truly happy to be there, and she got a far off look in her eyes, as though she were seeing something that happened long ago. I met more of her friends, and everyone commented that I look just like my Mommy. Up there in the Philomathean library, I learned that many buildings outside Florida do not have air conditioning, which I consider a barbaric state of being. Luckily, my parents agreed, and we soon returned to the hotel.
That night I learned that Mommy and Daddy can get dressed up two weekends in a row. I wonder when I will be invited along for one of these fancy evenings and whether I will be required to wear high heels, which Mommy swears are torture devices meant to keep women subservient.
On Sunday, I learned that I have the Greatest Aunt. After packing up all my toys and clothes, as well as the things the grown-ups brought on the trip, we drove across Philadelphia to have brunch with some of your extended family. I saw Uncle Mike and Aunt Helen again, and this time Mike let me honk his nose and grab his beard. We were joined by our cousins, Jackie and Howard, who were kind and shared stories of their grandchildren. The best part of the brunch, however, was meeting my Greatest Aunt. Her name is Esther, and she is Mommy's Great Aunt, which makes her my Greatest Aunt. (That's how Esther explained it to me, and I shall defer to her well-earned wisdom.) Esther has blond hair, just like Mommy and I, and when I tilted my head to get a better look at her, she tilted her head, too. She was so happy that she made me smile and giggle. Then we all ate bagels. It was wonderful!
After brunch, I learned that my parents like to cram as much fun into a vacation as they possibly can. Before heading to the airport, we drove to the oldest part of the city and walked on cobblestone streets amid Colonial row houses. That's where I learned that there are places much older than my neighborhood. I learned that the leaves on not-palm-trees can be colors other than green. As we strolled through the historic district, I saw a lot of people taking pictures of the buildings and foliage. The strange thing is that we didn't go inside any of the museums or historical sites. I saw guards in front of a big brick building called Independence Hall, and Grandma pointed to the signs on the fences and gates that kept us from walking past the sidewalks. There was a sense of missing out on something that clearly annoyed the grown-ups, but then we visited a big red building called the Bourse, and they ate some cheesesteaks (while I munched a cookie and had some milk), and everyone felt much better. Then it was time to head home, where Mommy once again tackled a mountain of laundry.
Now you know how I learned the meaning of "whirlwind vacation." I can't wait to see where Mommy and Daddy are taking me next weekend!
Six states down; forty-four to go,
Zelda
Week 44
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that you and Bubbi are in New Jersey, too. Just like when we traveled for hours to see you in Maine this summer, Mommy, Daddy, and I embarked upon another grand adventure. We shlepped all our stuff through an airport before and after sitting horribly still for a few hours while a loud droning noise permeated the air. I noticed that airplanes are the only places in which fewer than 100% of the people I meet are excited to see me. I thought that everyone loved babies in all situations, but airplanes seem to be the exceptions to that rule.
I learned that New Jersey has a lot of smoke stacks and never-ending highways. I also learned that Daddy drives rental cars just as fast as he drives his own car and that Mommy loves giving directions. I admit that I was surprised to see you and Bubbi in that new location. You two really get around. It was lovely to see my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I learned that Aunt Andrea's shoes are just as tasty as Mommy's. I think that's called a "family trait." While visiting with my cousins, I learned that Shane has decided to cover his teeth with shiny metal brackets. He was kind enough to let me reach out and touch them. I guess this is some sort of new hip fad that all the teenagers are into; I wonder if my parents will let me decorate my mouth when I'm older.
That evening I learned that Mommy is in fact capable of letting me play by myself with people who aren't related to us. I was excited when you all dressed in your fancy clothes and let me finally have an evening with my friends Vicky, Annelize, Monica, and those two dashing gentlemen. That group knows how to wear out a baby. We played, ate, soaked, and played some more until I had to regretfully pass out. I may have spent some of that time whining about the impending government shutdown and the Puerto Rican bond crisis, and as I look back on the evening, I wonder if my friends misinterpreted my sadder moments as a commentary on their conversation skills or general entertainment value, and so I must remember the next time we meet to assure them that I simply had heavy thoughts on my mind and otherwise thoroughly enjoyed their company.
When we arrived home, I noticed that Mommy and Daddy did not put away their suitcases, which means that there's another adventure in our near future. Will you be there, too?
I love to fly and it shows,
Zelda
This week I learned that you and Bubbi are in New Jersey, too. Just like when we traveled for hours to see you in Maine this summer, Mommy, Daddy, and I embarked upon another grand adventure. We shlepped all our stuff through an airport before and after sitting horribly still for a few hours while a loud droning noise permeated the air. I noticed that airplanes are the only places in which fewer than 100% of the people I meet are excited to see me. I thought that everyone loved babies in all situations, but airplanes seem to be the exceptions to that rule.
I learned that New Jersey has a lot of smoke stacks and never-ending highways. I also learned that Daddy drives rental cars just as fast as he drives his own car and that Mommy loves giving directions. I admit that I was surprised to see you and Bubbi in that new location. You two really get around. It was lovely to see my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I learned that Aunt Andrea's shoes are just as tasty as Mommy's. I think that's called a "family trait." While visiting with my cousins, I learned that Shane has decided to cover his teeth with shiny metal brackets. He was kind enough to let me reach out and touch them. I guess this is some sort of new hip fad that all the teenagers are into; I wonder if my parents will let me decorate my mouth when I'm older.
That evening I learned that Mommy is in fact capable of letting me play by myself with people who aren't related to us. I was excited when you all dressed in your fancy clothes and let me finally have an evening with my friends Vicky, Annelize, Monica, and those two dashing gentlemen. That group knows how to wear out a baby. We played, ate, soaked, and played some more until I had to regretfully pass out. I may have spent some of that time whining about the impending government shutdown and the Puerto Rican bond crisis, and as I look back on the evening, I wonder if my friends misinterpreted my sadder moments as a commentary on their conversation skills or general entertainment value, and so I must remember the next time we meet to assure them that I simply had heavy thoughts on my mind and otherwise thoroughly enjoyed their company.
When we arrived home, I noticed that Mommy and Daddy did not put away their suitcases, which means that there's another adventure in our near future. Will you be there, too?
I love to fly and it shows,
Zelda
Monday, September 23, 2013
Week 43
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that I can make it almost a whole week without pooping. It was exciting to see how long I could hold out, but in the end, I must admit that the anticipation was far more rewarding than the final output.
I learned that in a few months, I am going to attend an Indian wedding. Kanchan went to India and brought back dresses for Mommy and me. She's still working on Daddy's outfit. Apparently he is very large for Indian standards. I learned that Indian clothes are brightly colored and adorned with sequins, rhinestones, dangling baubles, and other things I would love to eat. I can't wait to try on my new dresses. Mommy tried on hers, and she looked like a princess. I imagine that an entire room full of people dressed like that will provide never-ending sensory stimulation.
This week I learned that Mommy can work outside our house. She takes pencils and notebooks and flashcards and drives to the homes of other children, where they do fun things like algebra and geometry. While she's gone, I stay at home with Grandma, who teaches me the lyrics to all those ancient songs. One of them tells of a long-ago time when there were eight days in a week. Another retells the myth of the great balls of fire that tormented primitive tribes. I'm learning so much with Grandma!
I learned that Daddy's office moved to a place he calls "my ammy." I don't know what an ammy is, and I'm not sure if we all have ammies somewhere or if these are places reserved for daddies. Do you have an ammy? Does Bubbi? Daddy says there's a lot of traffic on the way to his ammy, so it must be a popular place to visit. He will now spend his days on the 43rd floor of a building. We only have one floor in our house, and I love crawling all over it. Just imagine what fun I could have with 43 of them!
I'm watching Mommy put things in suitcases again. Someone is going somewhere. I hope this trip involves all of us. I'll keep you posted.
Hoping I have my very own ammy someday,
Zelda
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Week 42
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that Mommy makes the most amazing noise when I place her finger in my mouth and close my jaw. I think it has something to do with my new teeth. Maybe teething was worth it after all.
This week I learned that Grandma has "retired." From what I have gathered, this means that she comes to our house most days and crawls around the floor with me until we are both tired again, making us "re-tired." That's when I start to rub my eyes as a signal that it's time to take a break and do some relaxing and dosing in the rocking chair. Grandma is always happy to oblige by humming ancient songs that date all the way back to the 1960s.
This week I learned that Savtah doesn't trust me around her earrings. Apparently I almost ate one of her more dangly baubles, and now she doesn't even bother wearing them when I see her. I swear I wasn't going to eat that earring. I just wanted to get a better look (taste).
This week I learned that Daddy will, if offered, eat the food right out of my hand. I attempted to be polite one evening during dinner and held out my piece of beef because I know he is also a fan of slow-cooked stews. I thought he would decline because he had plenty to eat on his own plate, but that's when I learned that no good deed goes unpunished. Little did I know that my usually generous father would open wide and take a bite. I was aghast! In protest, I threw some carrots on the floor and smashed a few peas. Since then, I've offered Grandma and Mommy a bite of my meals to see if they are similarly greedy, and it turns out that I am surrounded by rapacious family members eager to eat me out of high chair and home. I know you wouldn't do such a thing to a poor, starving baby, despite what Mommy says about your penchant for french fries.
Chomp, chomp, chomp,
Zelda
This week I learned that Mommy makes the most amazing noise when I place her finger in my mouth and close my jaw. I think it has something to do with my new teeth. Maybe teething was worth it after all.
This week I learned that Grandma has "retired." From what I have gathered, this means that she comes to our house most days and crawls around the floor with me until we are both tired again, making us "re-tired." That's when I start to rub my eyes as a signal that it's time to take a break and do some relaxing and dosing in the rocking chair. Grandma is always happy to oblige by humming ancient songs that date all the way back to the 1960s.
This week I learned that Savtah doesn't trust me around her earrings. Apparently I almost ate one of her more dangly baubles, and now she doesn't even bother wearing them when I see her. I swear I wasn't going to eat that earring. I just wanted to get a better look (taste).
This week I learned that Daddy will, if offered, eat the food right out of my hand. I attempted to be polite one evening during dinner and held out my piece of beef because I know he is also a fan of slow-cooked stews. I thought he would decline because he had plenty to eat on his own plate, but that's when I learned that no good deed goes unpunished. Little did I know that my usually generous father would open wide and take a bite. I was aghast! In protest, I threw some carrots on the floor and smashed a few peas. Since then, I've offered Grandma and Mommy a bite of my meals to see if they are similarly greedy, and it turns out that I am surrounded by rapacious family members eager to eat me out of high chair and home. I know you wouldn't do such a thing to a poor, starving baby, despite what Mommy says about your penchant for french fries.
Chomp, chomp, chomp,
Zelda
Monday, September 9, 2013
Week 41
Dear Zayde,
I was in denial last week, but this week I must admit that I have finally learned the answer to the question adults have been asking me for five months.Where are my teeth?
THEY ARE IN MY MOUTH.
I have also learned that teeth are insidious monsters hell-bent on causing misery. The throbbing in my lower jaw made me rub my face, gnaw on anything I could get into my mouth, and whine incessantly. (Mommy had previously thought that whining was a learned behavior but now understands that it must be an inherent trait considering that she is certain I've never heard anyone else whine.) After the tooth broke through my aching gums, I thought the ordeal was over, but a few days later, the entire process repeated, and a second tooth, adjacent to the first, reared its ugly head. Just thinking about the last week of oral atrocities makes me cranky, especially now that I've made a note of how many teeth are in other people's mouths. (I have been checking carefully. While Mommy is feeding me, I poke my fingers into her mouth and tap at her teeth with my fingernails. When Daddy was playing with me on the floor and lifting me above his head, I waited until he opened his mouth and then shoved my entire hand in there. I probably could have fit both hands inside, but that just seemed silly.) The results of my hands-on research indicate that I have just begun what is sure to be a long and painful journey toward a full set of teeth.
Compared to experiencing this gum-ravaging anguish, getting my blood drawn at the lab was not so bad. Sure, I yelled, but that was mostly because I'd been kept waiting in a warm waiting room populated by people who smelled as though their mommies weren't as vigilant as mine about changing diapers in a timely manner. I wasn't thrilled about being held in Mommy's lap and having my arm stretched out, either. I am a free-range baby and prefer to control my own limbs, thank you very much. Despite my loud protests, I did learn that my blood is red and can escape from me in a long thin tube. I have no idea how much blood is inside me, but I didn't feel any different after the nurses removed two vials worth, so I will conclude that I have a lot more safely stored away for whatever use I might find in the future. I will also add to my previous weeks' commentary about the sadistic nature of nurses: even the ones that don't poke you in the leg will end up poking you somewhere else, such as the arm or heel. I still have yet to meet a nurse who didn't want to jab me with something sharp.
On a much more joyous note, this week I learned that our family celebrates Rosh Hashanah. L'shanah tovah! At Savtah's house, I watched Mommy light candles, heard some adults singing, and enjoyed my meal with a dozen people who were engaged in multiple simultaneous conversations in three languages. It was a good thing that Mommy brought me some food in little plastic containers because no one else would share. I saw people eating apples, which you know are a favorite of mine, but they smeared them with a golden gooey substance that Mommy was adamant was "not for babies." I'm learning that this phrase pops up quite often. The kitchen is "not for babies." Daddy's special juice is "not for babies." Is there some sort of government agency decreeing these unfair rules? I am compiling a list of things that are "not for babies" and will attempt to find a common thread to better understand this apparent injustice. Meanwhile, I have yet to hear anyone say that something is "not for grown-ups."
I need to end this week's letter here so that I can practice a few more sleep-evading tactics. Every day is another opportunity to prove that I can stay awake. I feel the fatigue set in; I rub my eyes and yawn, but I refuse to give up so easily. There's always one more book to pull off the shelf, one more ball to roll across the floor, one more piece of furniture that I can use to stand up and steady myself. Those foolish adults think that they can out last me, but I know I can keep going. I might lose a few battles, but in the end, victory will be mine.
Plotting and cutting,
Zelda
I was in denial last week, but this week I must admit that I have finally learned the answer to the question adults have been asking me for five months.Where are my teeth?
THEY ARE IN MY MOUTH.
I have also learned that teeth are insidious monsters hell-bent on causing misery. The throbbing in my lower jaw made me rub my face, gnaw on anything I could get into my mouth, and whine incessantly. (Mommy had previously thought that whining was a learned behavior but now understands that it must be an inherent trait considering that she is certain I've never heard anyone else whine.) After the tooth broke through my aching gums, I thought the ordeal was over, but a few days later, the entire process repeated, and a second tooth, adjacent to the first, reared its ugly head. Just thinking about the last week of oral atrocities makes me cranky, especially now that I've made a note of how many teeth are in other people's mouths. (I have been checking carefully. While Mommy is feeding me, I poke my fingers into her mouth and tap at her teeth with my fingernails. When Daddy was playing with me on the floor and lifting me above his head, I waited until he opened his mouth and then shoved my entire hand in there. I probably could have fit both hands inside, but that just seemed silly.) The results of my hands-on research indicate that I have just begun what is sure to be a long and painful journey toward a full set of teeth.
Compared to experiencing this gum-ravaging anguish, getting my blood drawn at the lab was not so bad. Sure, I yelled, but that was mostly because I'd been kept waiting in a warm waiting room populated by people who smelled as though their mommies weren't as vigilant as mine about changing diapers in a timely manner. I wasn't thrilled about being held in Mommy's lap and having my arm stretched out, either. I am a free-range baby and prefer to control my own limbs, thank you very much. Despite my loud protests, I did learn that my blood is red and can escape from me in a long thin tube. I have no idea how much blood is inside me, but I didn't feel any different after the nurses removed two vials worth, so I will conclude that I have a lot more safely stored away for whatever use I might find in the future. I will also add to my previous weeks' commentary about the sadistic nature of nurses: even the ones that don't poke you in the leg will end up poking you somewhere else, such as the arm or heel. I still have yet to meet a nurse who didn't want to jab me with something sharp.
On a much more joyous note, this week I learned that our family celebrates Rosh Hashanah. L'shanah tovah! At Savtah's house, I watched Mommy light candles, heard some adults singing, and enjoyed my meal with a dozen people who were engaged in multiple simultaneous conversations in three languages. It was a good thing that Mommy brought me some food in little plastic containers because no one else would share. I saw people eating apples, which you know are a favorite of mine, but they smeared them with a golden gooey substance that Mommy was adamant was "not for babies." I'm learning that this phrase pops up quite often. The kitchen is "not for babies." Daddy's special juice is "not for babies." Is there some sort of government agency decreeing these unfair rules? I am compiling a list of things that are "not for babies" and will attempt to find a common thread to better understand this apparent injustice. Meanwhile, I have yet to hear anyone say that something is "not for grown-ups."
I need to end this week's letter here so that I can practice a few more sleep-evading tactics. Every day is another opportunity to prove that I can stay awake. I feel the fatigue set in; I rub my eyes and yawn, but I refuse to give up so easily. There's always one more book to pull off the shelf, one more ball to roll across the floor, one more piece of furniture that I can use to stand up and steady myself. Those foolish adults think that they can out last me, but I know I can keep going. I might lose a few battles, but in the end, victory will be mine.
Plotting and cutting,
Zelda
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Week 40
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned to never stop moving. From the moment I wake up, I start to crawl, pull up, stand, sit down, pivot, and roll. I don't stop moving until I fall asleep. Even when I'm eating, I move. If I'm in my high chair, I swing my legs. If Mommy is trying to feed me, I pinch, tug, smack, and wiggle. Truth be told, even when I'm sleeping, I'm moving. I roll onto my stomach, scrunch up my legs, and spread out my arms. Then I'm on my back, flailing my legs so they make smacking noises on the mattress loud enough to wake up Mommy. As I get better at crawling, I've found that sticking my tushy way up into the air and hanging my head down allows me to see the world from a new and exciting perspective. People's faces look so silly with their chins on top. I have learned to crawl all over the house, but my favorite places are the ones that are technically "off limits," like the mat by the front door where my parents keep their oh-so-temping shoes. Every time I get close enough to grab a shoe, someone comes swooping in and carries me back to my play mat. One day, I got all the way to the shoes and picked one up. It was a flip flop and smelled like the ocean and our driveway. I almost had it in my mouth when Mommy yelled "NO!" (whatever that means) and yanked it from my hand. I don't understand why she won't let me taste the shoes. Whatever is on them can't be any worse than the random fuzz I get on my hands from crawling around the house.
Speaking of hands, this week I've stepped up my game and learned to wave hello and good-bye. Certain grown ups swear that they've heard me say "bye bye" while waving good-bye, but they seem to forget that I'm only making six consonant sounds (ba, ga, ma, wa, ya, da), so it's more likely a coincidence that I chose to say buh-buh while I waved than a conscious act. Either that, or I am a genius baby and will soon learn to reprogram the DVR.
And yes, you read that correctly: I've learned to say da-da. Daddy seems the most excited about this new skill, but he's also excited when my diaper holds all my poop, so he's an easy audience.
This week I learned to never stop moving. From the moment I wake up, I start to crawl, pull up, stand, sit down, pivot, and roll. I don't stop moving until I fall asleep. Even when I'm eating, I move. If I'm in my high chair, I swing my legs. If Mommy is trying to feed me, I pinch, tug, smack, and wiggle. Truth be told, even when I'm sleeping, I'm moving. I roll onto my stomach, scrunch up my legs, and spread out my arms. Then I'm on my back, flailing my legs so they make smacking noises on the mattress loud enough to wake up Mommy. As I get better at crawling, I've found that sticking my tushy way up into the air and hanging my head down allows me to see the world from a new and exciting perspective. People's faces look so silly with their chins on top. I have learned to crawl all over the house, but my favorite places are the ones that are technically "off limits," like the mat by the front door where my parents keep their oh-so-temping shoes. Every time I get close enough to grab a shoe, someone comes swooping in and carries me back to my play mat. One day, I got all the way to the shoes and picked one up. It was a flip flop and smelled like the ocean and our driveway. I almost had it in my mouth when Mommy yelled "NO!" (whatever that means) and yanked it from my hand. I don't understand why she won't let me taste the shoes. Whatever is on them can't be any worse than the random fuzz I get on my hands from crawling around the house.
Speaking of hands, this week I've stepped up my game and learned to wave hello and good-bye. Certain grown ups swear that they've heard me say "bye bye" while waving good-bye, but they seem to forget that I'm only making six consonant sounds (ba, ga, ma, wa, ya, da), so it's more likely a coincidence that I chose to say buh-buh while I waved than a conscious act. Either that, or I am a genius baby and will soon learn to reprogram the DVR.
And yes, you read that correctly: I've learned to say da-da. Daddy seems the most excited about this new skill, but he's also excited when my diaper holds all my poop, so he's an easy audience.
This week I learned that Daddy has an annual ritual called a "fantasty football draft" that involves staring at his computer and looking dismayed. As his good luck charm, I was allowed to push the button on his laptop during the most important round, the one in which he added a kicker. As you know, kicking is a specialty of mine; I've been doing it since my early days in utero, and I continue to practice on a daily basis. Thanks to the football draft, Daddy brought home a special treat from a local restaurant, and that's how I learned that I love BBQ. Mommy wouldn't let me have any of the sweet-smelling sauce that Daddy used to drown his food, but I didn't mind. Gnawing on pieces of roasted turkey and beef was an exploration in sensory overload. If we get to eat that stuff every time Daddy watches football, I will be a huge fan.
40 weeks in, 40 weeks out,
Zelda
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Week 39
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about the ocean. To celebrate my ninth month, my parents took me to a place that is bigger and bluer than anything I have known. It's called "the beach," and it is full of fascinating sights, sounds, and smells. Mommy placed me upon the sand while Daddy set up our umbrella. I felt the coarse grains between my toes and fingers and all the little nooks and crannies caused by my luscious rolls of baby fat. The granules stuck to my fingers, which I promptly shoved into my mouth. They tasted crunchy and forbidden. As we played under the umbrella and posed for the requisite pictures, the wind tossed my hair around and smacked me gently in the face. I heard music in the distance and watched big white birds fly low to the ground. The sky seemed so much bigger there: the clouds were taller and stretched on forever. The smell in the air was fresh and calming; I could have sat with my toes in the sand for hours. That's when Daddy took off his shirt, picked me up, and walked me into the sea.
The water was warm like the bath I take after dinner and before bedtime, but it didn't stay still. The water rolled past us and headed toward the sand, where Mommy stood with her camera. Daddy explained that we were wading among the waves. The sea was waving to us, so I waved back. (This week I learned how to wave good-bye, so I was ready to swing my arms as long as the ocean responded.) I splashed the water, and it splashed back. I tasted salt. It tickled parts of my tongue that I didn't know existed. Daddy lifted me high above his head and then back into the water. We smiled at each other and waved to Mommy, who seemed to be wiping tears off her cheeks.
Back on the sand, I felt brave enough to try crawling. I pushed down and back with my hands and knees like I do at home, but the sand didn't push back like I thought it would. Instead, it kind of moved out of the way. I was able to make a little progress, but the sensation of shuffling through the sand made me stop and sit and contemplate this new substance all around. By that time, Daddy had taken down the umbrella, and Mommy was packing up our towels and toys. Back in the car, I let the sun and excitement of the day lull me into a significant afternoon nap.
My trip to the beach was undoubtedly the highlight of my week. I learned so much while there, and the entire experience was positive and something I'd like to repeat. That cannot be said for the other things I learned in the last few days.
On Thursday, I learned about allergy tests. Mommy took me to a new doctor, whose waiting room was much louder than the one outside my pediatrician's office. She said that was because we were in Aventura, where people are generally louder than the residents of Hollywood. The doctor was friendly and inquisitive. He asked Mommy lots of questions about what I eat and which foods have made me get all red and splotchy. Then he left the room. Now, I've been to enough doctor appointments that I've noticed a pattern. Once the doctor leaves the room, it's only a matter of time until a nurse enters and pokes me. I expected her to poke me in the legs a few times, but apparently Aventura isn't just loud. It's sadistic. While Mommy held me, the nurse used tiny needles to prick me more than a dozen times on my back and arms. Each poke wasn't so bad, but the totality of the repeated tiny bits of pain was more than I could take without crying out my extreme unhappiness. Once the nurse left the room, I was glad to get back to one of my favorite activities, crinkling the long sheets of paper that sit on examination tables. We waited around for maybe a half hour before the doctor returned to continue his conversation with Mommy. I admit that my vocabulary isn't the most comprehensive right now, but I did pick out the words eggs, milk, nuts, and sesame, all of which I know are kinds of food. Mommy seemed distraught and started asking a barrage of questions. I think she was trying to learn as much as she could from the doctor. When he left the room again, I had a sinking feeling that the poking wasn't quite done for the day, and I was right. The next thing I knew, there were three nurses in the room, and Mommy was holding me down on the table. Before anyone else touched me, I started to scream because that was clearly the correct response to whatever was about to happen. The first nurse took out a big needle and poked it right into the fleshy part of my arm behind my elbow. The weird thing is that I didn't feel the needle; earlier, a different nurse rubbed some ointment on my arm, and I can only conclude that it was a magic potion to numb me in preparation for the torture that would soon ensue. The nurse holding the needle in my arm looked concerned and said something about "sideways veins." I couldn't hear everything she was saying because I was still screaming. By that point I might have been making this heartbreaking stammering wail that made Mommy bite her lip and try to hide the tears that started pooling under her eyes. A second nurse took the needle and poked me again. I had no idea that nurses liked to gang up on innocent children, but that day I learned the truth. The second nurse dug around for a while with the same concerned look on her face and said my veins were too small. I don't know what veins are, but if those nurses were trying to take them out of me, then I'm glad my veins were hiding. I think the third nurse just stood there because she is the kind that likes to watch. Sicko. Finally, they all gave up their evil plans and left the room. Mommy took me home, where I found comfort in a calming snack of milk and a lengthy nap on her chest. It's going to take me a while to recover from that ordeal.
On Friday, before we went to the beach, Mommy and Daddy took me to see my pediatrician. I know what you're thinking: two doctors in two days? Yup, that's what I was thinking, too. As usual, the doctor was friendly, asked some questions, and then left the room. You know what happened next - another shot in the leg. Seriously, what do nurses have against me? Why must they poke me? Did I somehow offend the Queen of Nurses? Has ordered her minions to attack at will? I need to figure out a way to get into their good graces. Maybe I can get Grandma to bake them some cookies.
I guess this week I learned to take the good with the bad. Just like the ocean waves go up and down, so do the events of a week. As I get better at crawling and practice pulling myself up onto various pieces of furniture, I am reminded again that life is full of these ups and downs. Sometimes you're on top of the world, holding onto the coffee table and reaching for the remote control, and then you're face down in the rug, wondering how you got there. I'm learning, in these situations, to pick myself up and crawl toward the next adventure. Or cry until someone acknowledges my pain and kisses my boo-boo. (Usually the latter.)
Bye-bye,
(I'm waving bye-bye, but you can't see me.)
Zelda
This week I learned about the ocean. To celebrate my ninth month, my parents took me to a place that is bigger and bluer than anything I have known. It's called "the beach," and it is full of fascinating sights, sounds, and smells. Mommy placed me upon the sand while Daddy set up our umbrella. I felt the coarse grains between my toes and fingers and all the little nooks and crannies caused by my luscious rolls of baby fat. The granules stuck to my fingers, which I promptly shoved into my mouth. They tasted crunchy and forbidden. As we played under the umbrella and posed for the requisite pictures, the wind tossed my hair around and smacked me gently in the face. I heard music in the distance and watched big white birds fly low to the ground. The sky seemed so much bigger there: the clouds were taller and stretched on forever. The smell in the air was fresh and calming; I could have sat with my toes in the sand for hours. That's when Daddy took off his shirt, picked me up, and walked me into the sea.
The water was warm like the bath I take after dinner and before bedtime, but it didn't stay still. The water rolled past us and headed toward the sand, where Mommy stood with her camera. Daddy explained that we were wading among the waves. The sea was waving to us, so I waved back. (This week I learned how to wave good-bye, so I was ready to swing my arms as long as the ocean responded.) I splashed the water, and it splashed back. I tasted salt. It tickled parts of my tongue that I didn't know existed. Daddy lifted me high above his head and then back into the water. We smiled at each other and waved to Mommy, who seemed to be wiping tears off her cheeks.
Back on the sand, I felt brave enough to try crawling. I pushed down and back with my hands and knees like I do at home, but the sand didn't push back like I thought it would. Instead, it kind of moved out of the way. I was able to make a little progress, but the sensation of shuffling through the sand made me stop and sit and contemplate this new substance all around. By that time, Daddy had taken down the umbrella, and Mommy was packing up our towels and toys. Back in the car, I let the sun and excitement of the day lull me into a significant afternoon nap.
My trip to the beach was undoubtedly the highlight of my week. I learned so much while there, and the entire experience was positive and something I'd like to repeat. That cannot be said for the other things I learned in the last few days.
On Thursday, I learned about allergy tests. Mommy took me to a new doctor, whose waiting room was much louder than the one outside my pediatrician's office. She said that was because we were in Aventura, where people are generally louder than the residents of Hollywood. The doctor was friendly and inquisitive. He asked Mommy lots of questions about what I eat and which foods have made me get all red and splotchy. Then he left the room. Now, I've been to enough doctor appointments that I've noticed a pattern. Once the doctor leaves the room, it's only a matter of time until a nurse enters and pokes me. I expected her to poke me in the legs a few times, but apparently Aventura isn't just loud. It's sadistic. While Mommy held me, the nurse used tiny needles to prick me more than a dozen times on my back and arms. Each poke wasn't so bad, but the totality of the repeated tiny bits of pain was more than I could take without crying out my extreme unhappiness. Once the nurse left the room, I was glad to get back to one of my favorite activities, crinkling the long sheets of paper that sit on examination tables. We waited around for maybe a half hour before the doctor returned to continue his conversation with Mommy. I admit that my vocabulary isn't the most comprehensive right now, but I did pick out the words eggs, milk, nuts, and sesame, all of which I know are kinds of food. Mommy seemed distraught and started asking a barrage of questions. I think she was trying to learn as much as she could from the doctor. When he left the room again, I had a sinking feeling that the poking wasn't quite done for the day, and I was right. The next thing I knew, there were three nurses in the room, and Mommy was holding me down on the table. Before anyone else touched me, I started to scream because that was clearly the correct response to whatever was about to happen. The first nurse took out a big needle and poked it right into the fleshy part of my arm behind my elbow. The weird thing is that I didn't feel the needle; earlier, a different nurse rubbed some ointment on my arm, and I can only conclude that it was a magic potion to numb me in preparation for the torture that would soon ensue. The nurse holding the needle in my arm looked concerned and said something about "sideways veins." I couldn't hear everything she was saying because I was still screaming. By that point I might have been making this heartbreaking stammering wail that made Mommy bite her lip and try to hide the tears that started pooling under her eyes. A second nurse took the needle and poked me again. I had no idea that nurses liked to gang up on innocent children, but that day I learned the truth. The second nurse dug around for a while with the same concerned look on her face and said my veins were too small. I don't know what veins are, but if those nurses were trying to take them out of me, then I'm glad my veins were hiding. I think the third nurse just stood there because she is the kind that likes to watch. Sicko. Finally, they all gave up their evil plans and left the room. Mommy took me home, where I found comfort in a calming snack of milk and a lengthy nap on her chest. It's going to take me a while to recover from that ordeal.
On Friday, before we went to the beach, Mommy and Daddy took me to see my pediatrician. I know what you're thinking: two doctors in two days? Yup, that's what I was thinking, too. As usual, the doctor was friendly, asked some questions, and then left the room. You know what happened next - another shot in the leg. Seriously, what do nurses have against me? Why must they poke me? Did I somehow offend the Queen of Nurses? Has ordered her minions to attack at will? I need to figure out a way to get into their good graces. Maybe I can get Grandma to bake them some cookies.
I guess this week I learned to take the good with the bad. Just like the ocean waves go up and down, so do the events of a week. As I get better at crawling and practice pulling myself up onto various pieces of furniture, I am reminded again that life is full of these ups and downs. Sometimes you're on top of the world, holding onto the coffee table and reaching for the remote control, and then you're face down in the rug, wondering how you got there. I'm learning, in these situations, to pick myself up and crawl toward the next adventure. Or cry until someone acknowledges my pain and kisses my boo-boo. (Usually the latter.)
Bye-bye,
(I'm waving bye-bye, but you can't see me.)
Zelda
Friday, August 23, 2013
Week 38
Dear Zayde,
It's been a rough week. I found out why Daddy had his suitcase with him on Saturday. He was going to a place called "out of town" to do something called a "trial." He wasn't happy about it. Mommy wasn't happy about it. I sure wasn't happy about it, either. Not having Daddy around for an entire week meant that Mommy had to put me in my crib each night and then play with me at 7:30 every morning, neither of which she did with the grace and aplomb that Daddy exhibits. It was almost as if she wasn't thrilled to be the only person watching me 24 hours a day. The nerve! To be fair, she probably missed Daddy as much as I did. That's why I woke up a few times each night and wailed until she brought me into her bed. I knew she needed a little extra snuggling. The extra diaper blow outs were also my way of showing how much I care.
Midweek, I learned that sometimes it's possible to see the person who is calling on the telephone. Mommy asked me if I wanted to "face time" Daddy, which I thought meant I would be able to smack him in the face as I've enjoyed doing since I gained control of my arms. Instead, Mommy and I stared at her phone until Daddy's face appeared. Then he spoke! And we responded. Technology is a never ending source of wonder and entertainment.
A week after he left, Daddy returned home. That's when he taught me that it's possible to save up a week's worth of kisses and then dole them out within a few hours. My cheeks might not recover for quite some time. The day he came home was Mommy's birthday. I've noticed that most people have a birthday, and I'm wondering when I get to have mine. I hear that people with birthdays get presents. Mommy said that all she wanted for her birthday was a nap. In my honest opinion, that is a stupid present. I take naps every day. Why would she wait until her birthday to do the same? I think that for my birthday, I will ask for a stack of magazines. This week I learned that magazines are made of paper, and ripping up paper is fantastic. It makes the greatest sound, even better than the noise I can make by crinkling the paper.
This week, I learned that Mommy can worry about people other than me. Something bad (but not too bad) happened to Grandma, and Mommy was concerned enough to hold me extra close and make a lot of phone calls. Everyone is fine now, but the ordeal made me realize that Mommy's heart is big enough to love me as well as a few other people. I'm not sure yet how I feel about the idea of sharing Mommy's attention, though. I think I prefer having her all to myself. That's why I didn't mind when the babysitter cancelled three times this week. Playing with people other than my parents or grandparents is fun, but I don't think it's necessary. Mommy seemed perturbed, but she gets that way when I poop beyond the limits of my diaper, so clearly she is easily inconvenienced.
Despite having a rough week, I did learn a lot. I guess that adversity allows for even more opportunities to grow and develop than the boring status quo. Onward and upward, right? Speaking of which, please excuse me while I crawl over to Daddy, who looks like he needs me to use his legs as leverage as I stand up.
Moving right along,
Zelda
It's been a rough week. I found out why Daddy had his suitcase with him on Saturday. He was going to a place called "out of town" to do something called a "trial." He wasn't happy about it. Mommy wasn't happy about it. I sure wasn't happy about it, either. Not having Daddy around for an entire week meant that Mommy had to put me in my crib each night and then play with me at 7:30 every morning, neither of which she did with the grace and aplomb that Daddy exhibits. It was almost as if she wasn't thrilled to be the only person watching me 24 hours a day. The nerve! To be fair, she probably missed Daddy as much as I did. That's why I woke up a few times each night and wailed until she brought me into her bed. I knew she needed a little extra snuggling. The extra diaper blow outs were also my way of showing how much I care.
Midweek, I learned that sometimes it's possible to see the person who is calling on the telephone. Mommy asked me if I wanted to "face time" Daddy, which I thought meant I would be able to smack him in the face as I've enjoyed doing since I gained control of my arms. Instead, Mommy and I stared at her phone until Daddy's face appeared. Then he spoke! And we responded. Technology is a never ending source of wonder and entertainment.
A week after he left, Daddy returned home. That's when he taught me that it's possible to save up a week's worth of kisses and then dole them out within a few hours. My cheeks might not recover for quite some time. The day he came home was Mommy's birthday. I've noticed that most people have a birthday, and I'm wondering when I get to have mine. I hear that people with birthdays get presents. Mommy said that all she wanted for her birthday was a nap. In my honest opinion, that is a stupid present. I take naps every day. Why would she wait until her birthday to do the same? I think that for my birthday, I will ask for a stack of magazines. This week I learned that magazines are made of paper, and ripping up paper is fantastic. It makes the greatest sound, even better than the noise I can make by crinkling the paper.
This week, I learned that Mommy can worry about people other than me. Something bad (but not too bad) happened to Grandma, and Mommy was concerned enough to hold me extra close and make a lot of phone calls. Everyone is fine now, but the ordeal made me realize that Mommy's heart is big enough to love me as well as a few other people. I'm not sure yet how I feel about the idea of sharing Mommy's attention, though. I think I prefer having her all to myself. That's why I didn't mind when the babysitter cancelled three times this week. Playing with people other than my parents or grandparents is fun, but I don't think it's necessary. Mommy seemed perturbed, but she gets that way when I poop beyond the limits of my diaper, so clearly she is easily inconvenienced.
Despite having a rough week, I did learn a lot. I guess that adversity allows for even more opportunities to grow and develop than the boring status quo. Onward and upward, right? Speaking of which, please excuse me while I crawl over to Daddy, who looks like he needs me to use his legs as leverage as I stand up.
Moving right along,
Zelda
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Week 37
Dear Zayde,
I guess the secret is out. I assumed (foolishly) that Daddy would keep my crawling under wraps, but he decided to blab this new development all over town. He even captured some of my early morning crawling on video to prove to everyone that he wasn't fabricating these episodes. I suppose this means I learned that Daddy only keeps certain secrets, such as that time I peed on him on the way to the bathtub or the day he let me put the remote control in my mouth. Those buttons were tastier than I'd ever dreamed.
On the topic of Daddy, this week I learned that sometimes he takes his suitcases to work. On Saturday, Daddy put his pin striped suits and fanciest ties into his suitcases and loaded everything into his car before leaving for work. He and Mommy seemed sad that he was taking his suitcases. My baby senses indicate that something strange is happening. I promise to keep you in the loop.
This week I learned that being in the sun changes the color of skin. Mommy always covers me with gobs of sunblock and protective clothing, but the Florida sun is mighty powerful, and the result is a pleasant "glow" on my once alabaster cheeks and forearms and legs. I don't think anyone would have noticed if it hadn't been for the tiny tan lines created by the indentation between the plush rolls on my arms and hands. (Mommy says that someday I'll have wrists where these indentations currently reside.) It looks like I'm wearing very thin white bracelets, which makes me a trend setter.
I need to cut this short so that I can crawl over to the shelves. Mommy finally took my advice and replaced those useless picture frames and glass vases with stacks of my favorite board books and the plush blocks that she loves to stack but I prefer splayed across the floor. (She also put plastic things in all the electrical outlets and rubber boarders on the coffee table, but I don't see the fun in those home "improvements.") Today I shall practice removing each item, in turn, from its place on the shelves and arranging the lot in a semi-circle around myself for easier access. It's all about efficiency and user-friendly design.
More mobile than ever,
Zelda
I guess the secret is out. I assumed (foolishly) that Daddy would keep my crawling under wraps, but he decided to blab this new development all over town. He even captured some of my early morning crawling on video to prove to everyone that he wasn't fabricating these episodes. I suppose this means I learned that Daddy only keeps certain secrets, such as that time I peed on him on the way to the bathtub or the day he let me put the remote control in my mouth. Those buttons were tastier than I'd ever dreamed.
On the topic of Daddy, this week I learned that sometimes he takes his suitcases to work. On Saturday, Daddy put his pin striped suits and fanciest ties into his suitcases and loaded everything into his car before leaving for work. He and Mommy seemed sad that he was taking his suitcases. My baby senses indicate that something strange is happening. I promise to keep you in the loop.
This week I learned that being in the sun changes the color of skin. Mommy always covers me with gobs of sunblock and protective clothing, but the Florida sun is mighty powerful, and the result is a pleasant "glow" on my once alabaster cheeks and forearms and legs. I don't think anyone would have noticed if it hadn't been for the tiny tan lines created by the indentation between the plush rolls on my arms and hands. (Mommy says that someday I'll have wrists where these indentations currently reside.) It looks like I'm wearing very thin white bracelets, which makes me a trend setter.
I need to cut this short so that I can crawl over to the shelves. Mommy finally took my advice and replaced those useless picture frames and glass vases with stacks of my favorite board books and the plush blocks that she loves to stack but I prefer splayed across the floor. (She also put plastic things in all the electrical outlets and rubber boarders on the coffee table, but I don't see the fun in those home "improvements.") Today I shall practice removing each item, in turn, from its place on the shelves and arranging the lot in a semi-circle around myself for easier access. It's all about efficiency and user-friendly design.
More mobile than ever,
Zelda
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Week 36
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned to quickly transition from resting on my back to sitting up. The process is multi-step. First, I roll onto my stomach. Next, I push myself up into a plank position. I then lower my knees and shift my weight back and sideways until my tushie is planted firmly on the ground. It's far more graceful than it sounds. The reverse process is much faster, though. I simply put my hands on the ground, lunge forward, and flip onto my back. Sometimes my head gets in the way, and I need to yell at Mommy for making the ground rush at my face so quickly. I'm still working out the kinks.
This week I also learned to crawl, but please don't tell anyone because it's a secret. Only Daddy knows. I've been teasing Mommy and all the other grown-ups for weeks with my hands and knees rocking and lunging act and pushing myself backwards across the laminate floor to get to my bookshelf or to wedge myself under the piano or between my exersaucer and the chair. It's been fun, but we all know that this baby-ish tactic will only be cute for so long. In the last few months, I've observed slightly older children scurry across carpets, and I must admit that I am intrigued by the idea of being able to follow Mommy anywhere, whether she likes it or not. This morning, while Mommy was taking what I must admit was a much-deserved nap, I decided to show off all my new skills for Daddy. I pushed myself from my back up to a sitting position. Then I pulled myself up to stand next to my toy box. Daddy was so impressed that I decided to give him a little treat. When he placed his phone on the mat, I got into my hands and knees position and reached for it. When he moved it slightly out of reach, I threw caution to the wind and went for it. I didn't crawl far, but I did move just far enough to delight my poor father before he had to leave for work. (I learned that lawyers work any day of the week and that this is one of the many reasons Daddy tells me not to be a lawyer.) After all that moving and shaking, I took an epic nap on Daddy, and when I woke up, Mommy was ready to feed me. Let's see how long I can wait to show her my new trick.
In the pool, I learned that I can float. My instructor showed Mommy where to place her hands (under my back and neck) while I stop screaming and relax on my back. When I'm ready - or rather, when she says I'm ready - Mommy slowly takes away the hand under my back. If I don't freak out too much, she then removed the hand from under my neck. I can stay afloat for a couple seconds before I start to wiggle and sink. Apparently this is a big deal and warranted much praise. I can't imagine how this skill will prove useful, but I have a similar view of my sippy cup right now, despite everyone telling me how wonderful it is to drink out of a plastic container. I guess time will tell.
I think all these new movements have made Mommy nervous, which had led to a new discovery this week. I learned that my crib's mattress could be lowered so that it is only a few inches off the ground. Now when I sit up in bed, I can't reach the top of the bars. I've also noticed Mommy putting little plastic things into the electrical outlets, which will make it very difficult for me to stick anything into them. I'm beginning to think that Mommy doesn't want me to have any fun. Don't worry; I'll figure out a way to overcome these seemingly insurmountable obstacles. I always do.
Planning the next step,
Zelda
This week I learned to quickly transition from resting on my back to sitting up. The process is multi-step. First, I roll onto my stomach. Next, I push myself up into a plank position. I then lower my knees and shift my weight back and sideways until my tushie is planted firmly on the ground. It's far more graceful than it sounds. The reverse process is much faster, though. I simply put my hands on the ground, lunge forward, and flip onto my back. Sometimes my head gets in the way, and I need to yell at Mommy for making the ground rush at my face so quickly. I'm still working out the kinks.
This week I also learned to crawl, but please don't tell anyone because it's a secret. Only Daddy knows. I've been teasing Mommy and all the other grown-ups for weeks with my hands and knees rocking and lunging act and pushing myself backwards across the laminate floor to get to my bookshelf or to wedge myself under the piano or between my exersaucer and the chair. It's been fun, but we all know that this baby-ish tactic will only be cute for so long. In the last few months, I've observed slightly older children scurry across carpets, and I must admit that I am intrigued by the idea of being able to follow Mommy anywhere, whether she likes it or not. This morning, while Mommy was taking what I must admit was a much-deserved nap, I decided to show off all my new skills for Daddy. I pushed myself from my back up to a sitting position. Then I pulled myself up to stand next to my toy box. Daddy was so impressed that I decided to give him a little treat. When he placed his phone on the mat, I got into my hands and knees position and reached for it. When he moved it slightly out of reach, I threw caution to the wind and went for it. I didn't crawl far, but I did move just far enough to delight my poor father before he had to leave for work. (I learned that lawyers work any day of the week and that this is one of the many reasons Daddy tells me not to be a lawyer.) After all that moving and shaking, I took an epic nap on Daddy, and when I woke up, Mommy was ready to feed me. Let's see how long I can wait to show her my new trick.
In the pool, I learned that I can float. My instructor showed Mommy where to place her hands (under my back and neck) while I stop screaming and relax on my back. When I'm ready - or rather, when she says I'm ready - Mommy slowly takes away the hand under my back. If I don't freak out too much, she then removed the hand from under my neck. I can stay afloat for a couple seconds before I start to wiggle and sink. Apparently this is a big deal and warranted much praise. I can't imagine how this skill will prove useful, but I have a similar view of my sippy cup right now, despite everyone telling me how wonderful it is to drink out of a plastic container. I guess time will tell.
I think all these new movements have made Mommy nervous, which had led to a new discovery this week. I learned that my crib's mattress could be lowered so that it is only a few inches off the ground. Now when I sit up in bed, I can't reach the top of the bars. I've also noticed Mommy putting little plastic things into the electrical outlets, which will make it very difficult for me to stick anything into them. I'm beginning to think that Mommy doesn't want me to have any fun. Don't worry; I'll figure out a way to overcome these seemingly insurmountable obstacles. I always do.
Planning the next step,
Zelda
Week 35
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that princesses don't have to wear their crowns. Mommy brought me to see Ari again, but this time, when she took off my crown to inspect it, she never put it back on my head. She took another special picture of me and told me that I'm symmetric, which must be a synonym for gorgeous. Mommy seemed both happy and nervous at the same time. I didn't know that was possible, although I should have considered it given that I often whine and giggle simultaneously. Ari hugged Mommy and kissed me and said she was proud of what we've accomplished. I'm not sure to what she's referring; maybe she's glad we were able to avoid the paparazzi despite my traveling around town wearing the crown. When we got back into the car, I saw Mommy brush away a few tears. She's so silly: she cried when she found out I would get a crown, and then she cried when I stopped wearing it. I suppose I learned this week that Mommies can be as confusing as babies. I thought about sending my crown to the new prince in England, but he probably won't have any outfits to match its pink hue. For now, the crown rests on a shelf in my closet, just like the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. I expect we'll get a few tourists who want to pose next to it. I plan to charge admittance on a sliding scale: $25 for adults, $15 for children, and babies may view the crown for free. Gotta support my fellow infants.
This week I learned how to swim underwater to Mommy. My instructor says, "one, two, three," and then she dunks me and somewhat launches me toward Mommy. I kick and squirm and keep my mouth shut as I reach out toward Mommy's waiting arms. The experience is both exhilarating and terrifying, much like being born.
I learned to open and close my fist in a motion similar to waving. Sometimes I do it when people wave to me. Sometimes I do it when I'm hungry because that's the sign for milk. Sometimes I do it just to enjoy the sensation of squeezing thin air. I like to keep the adults in a constant state of wonderment.
The most useful thing I learned this week is how to cling. I have mastered the ability to take up so much of Mommy's time and energy that she cannot accomplish even the most mundane tasks, such as eating and using the restroom. As proof, you'll notice that I was able to stop her from writing anything for a whole week. Right now, she's passed out on the living room floor in a state of utter exhaustion, so I figured I would have a few minutes to write to you. Uh oh; I hear her moaning. I'd better go check on her.
Better late than never,
Zelda
This week I learned that princesses don't have to wear their crowns. Mommy brought me to see Ari again, but this time, when she took off my crown to inspect it, she never put it back on my head. She took another special picture of me and told me that I'm symmetric, which must be a synonym for gorgeous. Mommy seemed both happy and nervous at the same time. I didn't know that was possible, although I should have considered it given that I often whine and giggle simultaneously. Ari hugged Mommy and kissed me and said she was proud of what we've accomplished. I'm not sure to what she's referring; maybe she's glad we were able to avoid the paparazzi despite my traveling around town wearing the crown. When we got back into the car, I saw Mommy brush away a few tears. She's so silly: she cried when she found out I would get a crown, and then she cried when I stopped wearing it. I suppose I learned this week that Mommies can be as confusing as babies. I thought about sending my crown to the new prince in England, but he probably won't have any outfits to match its pink hue. For now, the crown rests on a shelf in my closet, just like the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. I expect we'll get a few tourists who want to pose next to it. I plan to charge admittance on a sliding scale: $25 for adults, $15 for children, and babies may view the crown for free. Gotta support my fellow infants.
This week I learned how to swim underwater to Mommy. My instructor says, "one, two, three," and then she dunks me and somewhat launches me toward Mommy. I kick and squirm and keep my mouth shut as I reach out toward Mommy's waiting arms. The experience is both exhilarating and terrifying, much like being born.
I learned to open and close my fist in a motion similar to waving. Sometimes I do it when people wave to me. Sometimes I do it when I'm hungry because that's the sign for milk. Sometimes I do it just to enjoy the sensation of squeezing thin air. I like to keep the adults in a constant state of wonderment.
The most useful thing I learned this week is how to cling. I have mastered the ability to take up so much of Mommy's time and energy that she cannot accomplish even the most mundane tasks, such as eating and using the restroom. As proof, you'll notice that I was able to stop her from writing anything for a whole week. Right now, she's passed out on the living room floor in a state of utter exhaustion, so I figured I would have a few minutes to write to you. Uh oh; I hear her moaning. I'd better go check on her.
Better late than never,
Zelda
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Week 34
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that Mommy has a job. I know what you're going to say. Of course, Mommy has a job. She takes care of you, Zelda. But that's not what I'm talking about. Mommy has another job, one that has nothing to do with me. Mommy uses her computer to write about far away places. Uncle Brad makes her do it. Does he not realize that he's taking her away from precious play time? I enjoy spending a few hours a day with my new friend, though. Her name is Dallas, and she loves playing with my toys and taking me for walks. I suppose that if Mommy really has to do her not-Zelda job, it's not so bad having someone all to myself. Dallas even lets me nap on her while she rocks in that special chair I thought was only for Mommy and Grandma.
This week I learned that I am strong enough to cling so forcefully to whomever is holding me that it is extremely difficult to put me down. Such a useful skill will be handy when my parents begin to enforce what they refer to as "bed time."
I learned that it is possible for rain to fall all day every day for a whole week. This led to the realization that Mommy and I are able to catch a disease called "cabin fever." It's a wretched syndrome that makes us antsy and moody. As soon as the sun decided to peek through the clouds, we were out the door for an extra long walk.
Speaking of getting wet, this week I learned that it's possible to get dunked under water and not start screaming when I come back up for air. I may or may not continue with this style of swimming. I'll let you know if it proves beneficial or if the previous method of ear-splitting, banshee-impersonating is better suited for the long term.
In case you're wondering about my progress with teething and crawling, rest assured that if anything truly exciting were to happen, you'd be among the first to know. I've mastered pushing myself backwards, but that doesn't get me where I want to go, so it's back to the drawing board. As for the teeth, I'm beginning to think that all the adults in my life have been teasing me about something that doesn't really exist. I'll believe in teeth when I feel them.
Glub, glub,
Zelda
This week I learned that Mommy has a job. I know what you're going to say. Of course, Mommy has a job. She takes care of you, Zelda. But that's not what I'm talking about. Mommy has another job, one that has nothing to do with me. Mommy uses her computer to write about far away places. Uncle Brad makes her do it. Does he not realize that he's taking her away from precious play time? I enjoy spending a few hours a day with my new friend, though. Her name is Dallas, and she loves playing with my toys and taking me for walks. I suppose that if Mommy really has to do her not-Zelda job, it's not so bad having someone all to myself. Dallas even lets me nap on her while she rocks in that special chair I thought was only for Mommy and Grandma.
This week I learned that I am strong enough to cling so forcefully to whomever is holding me that it is extremely difficult to put me down. Such a useful skill will be handy when my parents begin to enforce what they refer to as "bed time."
I learned that it is possible for rain to fall all day every day for a whole week. This led to the realization that Mommy and I are able to catch a disease called "cabin fever." It's a wretched syndrome that makes us antsy and moody. As soon as the sun decided to peek through the clouds, we were out the door for an extra long walk.
Speaking of getting wet, this week I learned that it's possible to get dunked under water and not start screaming when I come back up for air. I may or may not continue with this style of swimming. I'll let you know if it proves beneficial or if the previous method of ear-splitting, banshee-impersonating is better suited for the long term.
In case you're wondering about my progress with teething and crawling, rest assured that if anything truly exciting were to happen, you'd be among the first to know. I've mastered pushing myself backwards, but that doesn't get me where I want to go, so it's back to the drawing board. As for the teeth, I'm beginning to think that all the adults in my life have been teasing me about something that doesn't really exist. I'll believe in teeth when I feel them.
Glub, glub,
Zelda
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Week 33
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned how to babble. It started with the mmm sound, which I employed at first to show my annoyance and frustration. When my parents showed an interest in this consonant sound, I decided to try a few others. So far, I have been practicing buh, guh, and wuh, but my favorite is still muh. Mommy seems particularly pleased with that last one, but she keeps repeating "dadada" to me for some reason.
As you saw on the boat, I've been trying REALLY hard to crawl. I have learned to get myself propped up on my hands and knees and to rock back and forth a little, but I can't figure out how this will lead to forward movement. I am quite good at staying in "plank pose" and also launching into a squat from a sitting position and then returning to my tushie, but I'm not sure how those will help me, either. What I do know for sure is that my parents have been placing my toys just out of reach and sometimes all the way on the other side of my play mat. Do they not realize how hard it is to pick up my bunny when it's more than an arm's length away? I think they're getting careless. Or sadistic.
Speaking of being sadistic, this week I learned what a swim instructor does for a living. She arrives at the house in a bathing suit, smiles and makes polite conversation, joins Mommy and me in the pool, and then she shows her true colors. The floating and bobbing part isn't so bad; it's the moment that she begins to sing "Ring Around the Rosie" that I know I'm in for a shock. Did you know that there's an UNDERwater? It's like being in the womb, but it's much colder and brighter, and a baby can't breathe down there. I was smart and kept my mouth closed for those terrifying two seconds, but once I emerged into the life-giving fresh air, I let it be known (to the swim instructor, to Mommy, and to the entire neighborhood) that I was completely unsatisfied with my swim lesson and considered the whole morning ruined. That was on Tuesday. On Thursday, despite my frank conversation with Mommy, the swim instructor returned. This time, I shared my feelings about the situation for the duration of the lesson. That's right; I screamed for 25 minutes while we practiced floating, sitting on the side of the pool, kicking toward Mommy, and - inevitably - getting dunked. I hope Mommy got the hint, but I am prepared to repeat my vocal protest if and when the instructor returns.
This week I learned what a head cold is. Suffice it to say, it's like stuffing a whole lot of misery into my nose and letting it slowly ooze out. When Mommy wipes it off my face, she calls it mucus, which seems like an appropriate term for something so disgusting. To add insult to injury, this week Mommy and Daddy have been forcing me to sit in the bathroom while they run the hot water in the shower. This process makes the misery in my nose softer and more likely to drip. If it isn't coming out fast enough for them, my parents then hold me down and drop saline into my poor nostrils. This must be what is referred to as Chinese Water Torture. If it is not, it should be. The worst part - and this is how I know my parents are trying to make me run away - is when they shove that bulb syringe into my nose and forcefully suck out the mucus. It's an outrage! Sure, I can breathe better after the ordeal, but I am not a firm believer in "the end justifies the means," especially when the means are so mean!
Don't worry, though: the tables have turned. This week I learned that I can share. For my first stab at giving back and spreading the love, I gave Mommy my cold. She doesn't seem as grateful as I expected. This might sway me from sharing in the future, but in the meantime, I'm going to figure out how I can shove that bulb syringe up Mommy's nose.
Cough, cough,
Zelda
This week I learned how to babble. It started with the mmm sound, which I employed at first to show my annoyance and frustration. When my parents showed an interest in this consonant sound, I decided to try a few others. So far, I have been practicing buh, guh, and wuh, but my favorite is still muh. Mommy seems particularly pleased with that last one, but she keeps repeating "dadada" to me for some reason.
As you saw on the boat, I've been trying REALLY hard to crawl. I have learned to get myself propped up on my hands and knees and to rock back and forth a little, but I can't figure out how this will lead to forward movement. I am quite good at staying in "plank pose" and also launching into a squat from a sitting position and then returning to my tushie, but I'm not sure how those will help me, either. What I do know for sure is that my parents have been placing my toys just out of reach and sometimes all the way on the other side of my play mat. Do they not realize how hard it is to pick up my bunny when it's more than an arm's length away? I think they're getting careless. Or sadistic.
Speaking of being sadistic, this week I learned what a swim instructor does for a living. She arrives at the house in a bathing suit, smiles and makes polite conversation, joins Mommy and me in the pool, and then she shows her true colors. The floating and bobbing part isn't so bad; it's the moment that she begins to sing "Ring Around the Rosie" that I know I'm in for a shock. Did you know that there's an UNDERwater? It's like being in the womb, but it's much colder and brighter, and a baby can't breathe down there. I was smart and kept my mouth closed for those terrifying two seconds, but once I emerged into the life-giving fresh air, I let it be known (to the swim instructor, to Mommy, and to the entire neighborhood) that I was completely unsatisfied with my swim lesson and considered the whole morning ruined. That was on Tuesday. On Thursday, despite my frank conversation with Mommy, the swim instructor returned. This time, I shared my feelings about the situation for the duration of the lesson. That's right; I screamed for 25 minutes while we practiced floating, sitting on the side of the pool, kicking toward Mommy, and - inevitably - getting dunked. I hope Mommy got the hint, but I am prepared to repeat my vocal protest if and when the instructor returns.
This week I learned what a head cold is. Suffice it to say, it's like stuffing a whole lot of misery into my nose and letting it slowly ooze out. When Mommy wipes it off my face, she calls it mucus, which seems like an appropriate term for something so disgusting. To add insult to injury, this week Mommy and Daddy have been forcing me to sit in the bathroom while they run the hot water in the shower. This process makes the misery in my nose softer and more likely to drip. If it isn't coming out fast enough for them, my parents then hold me down and drop saline into my poor nostrils. This must be what is referred to as Chinese Water Torture. If it is not, it should be. The worst part - and this is how I know my parents are trying to make me run away - is when they shove that bulb syringe into my nose and forcefully suck out the mucus. It's an outrage! Sure, I can breathe better after the ordeal, but I am not a firm believer in "the end justifies the means," especially when the means are so mean!
Don't worry, though: the tables have turned. This week I learned that I can share. For my first stab at giving back and spreading the love, I gave Mommy my cold. She doesn't seem as grateful as I expected. This might sway me from sharing in the future, but in the meantime, I'm going to figure out how I can shove that bulb syringe up Mommy's nose.
Cough, cough,
Zelda
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Week 32
Dear Zayde,
...continuing the tale about our journey up North...
On Sunday, as you well know, I went for my first ride on the boat. You can imagine my surprise when I looked out the window and saw that our surroundings were all floating away. At least, that's what I thought was happening until it dawned on me that we were floating away. Now that I think about it, this must be how you got the boat all the way to Maine. That must have been a long trip. It's a good thing you had Bubbi with you to keep you company. I learned during my first foray into the open waters that boats sway just like Mommy does when she rocks me to sleep. I tried so hard to stay awake during our boat ride, but my eyes refused to stay open. It was a smooth and uneventful trip. I recall something about seals and more lobster, but like I said, I was asleep for most of it. I do recall the return to the marina and was impressed by the pilot's expertise at docking our vessel among so many others. Whoever was at the helm should give my parents a few tips about parallel parking.
Later that day, I learned that a barbeque is a meal that's cooked outside. Auntie Linda gave me a bright pink baseball cap that says "Penn." You and Mommy thought that was an excellent gift, and I agree. When the sun set, my Philadelphia cousins and some of the other guests stuck white fluffy things on the ends of sticks and held them over a campfire. Mommy said they were making "s'mores" but explained that those aren't for babies. I'm getting sick and tired of that line. "It's not for babies," eh? Then I don't want to be a baby anymore. I want to eat things on sticks and crack open lobsters and dance until the party is over. I'm beginning to understand that being a baby isn't all it's cracked up to be. All the excitement at the barbeque made me super sleepy, so I passed out in Mommy's arms. I have a vague memory of being placed in a big bed made out of tree trunks. You know I'm a huge fan of trees, so I was in slumbering heaven that night. Unfortunately, Mommy moved me from that awesome location and returned me to my travel crib on the boat. A few hours later, I voiced my disapproval and wound up back in bed with my parents.
Monday was the third and final day of parties in Maine. That was the day we celebrated your 75th
birthday party. I gave you your present a day early because I couldn't wait any longer. You said you loved the book that Mommy helped me design. I wanted to make sure you had a non-digital copy of these letters - as well as some of my favorite pictures of our family - that you could share with people who come to visit. On your birthday, we went to my Great Grandparents' home. I thought all my grandparents were great, but it turns out that Grammy Jo and Grampy Don are the only "officially" great ones. That day I learned that my father and many other family members are capable of eating lobster multiple times a day for many consecutive days. I suppose I understand how they can do it; after all, I've been drinking the same milk for almost eight months. I wonder if lobster is as good as milk. Maybe next year I'll find out. At the party, I learned that people in Maine don't let a little rain spoil a good time. That's when tents and umbrellas and covered porches come in handy. I learned that Mommy wrote the lyrics to a song about our family, and it's not that bad. The most amazing thing I learned that day is that you are halfway through your eighth decade, and I am halfway through my eighth month. I think about all the things I've learned in the last eight months, and I am boggled by the enormity of what you must have learned in all those years.
Maine was fun and informative, but on Tuesday it was time to pack up and head South. I was sad to say good-bye to you and Bubbi, but I know that we will see each other soon. Feel free to use my high chair and crib in the interim.
I stayed awake during most of the return road trip to Boston, and on the way I learned that there are a lot of Dunkin Donuts in Massachusetts. When we arrived at the airport, I was surprised to see Grandma walking out to greet us and even more surprised when Daddy said good-bye and walked into the airport without Mommy and me. It made me cry a little, but then Grandma climbed into the backseat and played with me until I calmed down. For the next two days, I got to spend some time in Massachusetts with Grandma's sister and even more cousins. I met Kylie, who is 10 months old and prefers spinning like a whirling dervish rather than the traditional method of crawling. Her older brother, Wyatt, was kind enough to return toys to me after Kyle stole them right out of my hands. (Sure, they were "her" toys, but I think I heard someone say that possession is nine tenths of the law, which makes me think that if a toy is in my hands, it must be mine. ALL MINE.) That first night we had dinner with a bunch of grown up cousins. Everyone wanted to hold me and tell me how much I look like Mommy. By that point, I'd lost count of the number of cousins I met in one week - not to mention all the cousins I'd encountered in Florida. Seriously, how big is my family? Am I related to everyone in New England?
The next day, I learned about all sorts of interesting phenomena at a science museum. I observed
amphibians, reptiles, mammals, insects, and birds, as well as a strange species known as "tourists." They're large and emit an unpleasant odor. I learned how a wave is formed and stared at some optical illusions. Mommy fed me in a peaceful library filled with science texts; she said that eating in such an intellectual atmosphere was good for my development.
On Thursday, Mommy, Grandma, and I returned to the airport. I wasn't thrilled about sitting still for that long once again, but I learned that on an airplane, a Grandma is an excellent asset. She reclined her seat to give us some extra room, and then she held me and rocked me for over an hour. I learned that just like my first ride on an airplane, this one concluded with a "descent," which gave me a strange feeling in my stomach and my ears. Mommy attempted to feed me and kept telling me that the swallowing motion would help my ears, but who can relax and enjoy a meal at a time like that?
All in all, I found the entire week's vacation to be a series of adventures in learning. I couldn't possibly write about all the things I saw and heard and smelled and tasted in just a few letters, so I tried to mention the most important aspects of our trip. I learned that I like to travel and see new places and meet new people, and I hope that my parents learned that I am capable of going with them to distant destinations. Life is one epic journey, and it's good to know that like you, I can spend the years learning about our world and its many inhabitants.
Your traveling tot,
Zelda
...continuing the tale about our journey up North...
On Sunday, as you well know, I went for my first ride on the boat. You can imagine my surprise when I looked out the window and saw that our surroundings were all floating away. At least, that's what I thought was happening until it dawned on me that we were floating away. Now that I think about it, this must be how you got the boat all the way to Maine. That must have been a long trip. It's a good thing you had Bubbi with you to keep you company. I learned during my first foray into the open waters that boats sway just like Mommy does when she rocks me to sleep. I tried so hard to stay awake during our boat ride, but my eyes refused to stay open. It was a smooth and uneventful trip. I recall something about seals and more lobster, but like I said, I was asleep for most of it. I do recall the return to the marina and was impressed by the pilot's expertise at docking our vessel among so many others. Whoever was at the helm should give my parents a few tips about parallel parking.
Later that day, I learned that a barbeque is a meal that's cooked outside. Auntie Linda gave me a bright pink baseball cap that says "Penn." You and Mommy thought that was an excellent gift, and I agree. When the sun set, my Philadelphia cousins and some of the other guests stuck white fluffy things on the ends of sticks and held them over a campfire. Mommy said they were making "s'mores" but explained that those aren't for babies. I'm getting sick and tired of that line. "It's not for babies," eh? Then I don't want to be a baby anymore. I want to eat things on sticks and crack open lobsters and dance until the party is over. I'm beginning to understand that being a baby isn't all it's cracked up to be. All the excitement at the barbeque made me super sleepy, so I passed out in Mommy's arms. I have a vague memory of being placed in a big bed made out of tree trunks. You know I'm a huge fan of trees, so I was in slumbering heaven that night. Unfortunately, Mommy moved me from that awesome location and returned me to my travel crib on the boat. A few hours later, I voiced my disapproval and wound up back in bed with my parents.
Monday was the third and final day of parties in Maine. That was the day we celebrated your 75th
birthday party. I gave you your present a day early because I couldn't wait any longer. You said you loved the book that Mommy helped me design. I wanted to make sure you had a non-digital copy of these letters - as well as some of my favorite pictures of our family - that you could share with people who come to visit. On your birthday, we went to my Great Grandparents' home. I thought all my grandparents were great, but it turns out that Grammy Jo and Grampy Don are the only "officially" great ones. That day I learned that my father and many other family members are capable of eating lobster multiple times a day for many consecutive days. I suppose I understand how they can do it; after all, I've been drinking the same milk for almost eight months. I wonder if lobster is as good as milk. Maybe next year I'll find out. At the party, I learned that people in Maine don't let a little rain spoil a good time. That's when tents and umbrellas and covered porches come in handy. I learned that Mommy wrote the lyrics to a song about our family, and it's not that bad. The most amazing thing I learned that day is that you are halfway through your eighth decade, and I am halfway through my eighth month. I think about all the things I've learned in the last eight months, and I am boggled by the enormity of what you must have learned in all those years.
Maine was fun and informative, but on Tuesday it was time to pack up and head South. I was sad to say good-bye to you and Bubbi, but I know that we will see each other soon. Feel free to use my high chair and crib in the interim.
I stayed awake during most of the return road trip to Boston, and on the way I learned that there are a lot of Dunkin Donuts in Massachusetts. When we arrived at the airport, I was surprised to see Grandma walking out to greet us and even more surprised when Daddy said good-bye and walked into the airport without Mommy and me. It made me cry a little, but then Grandma climbed into the backseat and played with me until I calmed down. For the next two days, I got to spend some time in Massachusetts with Grandma's sister and even more cousins. I met Kylie, who is 10 months old and prefers spinning like a whirling dervish rather than the traditional method of crawling. Her older brother, Wyatt, was kind enough to return toys to me after Kyle stole them right out of my hands. (Sure, they were "her" toys, but I think I heard someone say that possession is nine tenths of the law, which makes me think that if a toy is in my hands, it must be mine. ALL MINE.) That first night we had dinner with a bunch of grown up cousins. Everyone wanted to hold me and tell me how much I look like Mommy. By that point, I'd lost count of the number of cousins I met in one week - not to mention all the cousins I'd encountered in Florida. Seriously, how big is my family? Am I related to everyone in New England?
The next day, I learned about all sorts of interesting phenomena at a science museum. I observed
amphibians, reptiles, mammals, insects, and birds, as well as a strange species known as "tourists." They're large and emit an unpleasant odor. I learned how a wave is formed and stared at some optical illusions. Mommy fed me in a peaceful library filled with science texts; she said that eating in such an intellectual atmosphere was good for my development.
On Thursday, Mommy, Grandma, and I returned to the airport. I wasn't thrilled about sitting still for that long once again, but I learned that on an airplane, a Grandma is an excellent asset. She reclined her seat to give us some extra room, and then she held me and rocked me for over an hour. I learned that just like my first ride on an airplane, this one concluded with a "descent," which gave me a strange feeling in my stomach and my ears. Mommy attempted to feed me and kept telling me that the swallowing motion would help my ears, but who can relax and enjoy a meal at a time like that?
All in all, I found the entire week's vacation to be a series of adventures in learning. I couldn't possibly write about all the things I saw and heard and smelled and tasted in just a few letters, so I tried to mention the most important aspects of our trip. I learned that I like to travel and see new places and meet new people, and I hope that my parents learned that I am capable of going with them to distant destinations. Life is one epic journey, and it's good to know that like you, I can spend the years learning about our world and its many inhabitants.
Your traveling tot,
Zelda
Week 31
Dear Zayde,
This letter is two whole weeks late because I've been "out of town." I learned that people can travel far from home. These trips are called "adventures," and I have had quite a few of them recently. I'll write you a letter to commemorate each week, just like I usually do. This one will explain everything I learned during my 31st week.
Mommy and Daddy spent most of the early part of the week packing clothes and toys and quite a few diapers into suitcases. It's amazing how many outfits Mommy claimed I would need for the trip. And how many of them were pink. On the big day, I learned around 5:30 am that it is possible for Mommy to wake me up. I thought that I was performing a valuable service each morning by waking up my parents so that they could start their busy days. It never occurred to me that they were capable of waking up on their own. Our first stop on our way to see you was a huge and busy building called an "airport." I met TSA agents who took my bag of toys and diapers (which was a little upsetting) but then gave everything back. All sorts of strangers stopped to say hello and tell me I'm gorgeous. Nothing new there.
Mommy will tell you that most exciting thing we did that day was ride in an airplane. I disagree. What's so exciting about sitting still? For three hours, we did the usual - snack, snooze, and play - but only once did we leave our seats. That's when I learned that I can have my diaper changed in an incredibly small space. I had plenty of room on the table, but Mommy looked a bit cramped trying to get my diapers off and on. (That day she also changed me in a public restroom and in a car. My tushie saw more excitement than I did.)
When we landed in Boston, I learned that we were in a different state. I have no idea what this means, but during that week, I visited three new states. I'm beginning to understand that this world of ours is much, much larger than the distances Mommy drives in her car while running errands. In Boston, I learned that a rental car is like a regular car but smells like other families. Then I learned that a "road trip" is when Daddy drives a long distance while Mommy gives him directions. I figured they had that part of the journey under control, so I snuggled into my car seat and slept through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and a good bit of Maine. When I awoke, we were driving past houses not made of stucco and hundreds of trees that didn't look like the palm trees near our home. The car stopped at a marina, and Mommy declared, "welcome to Maine!" and opened the car doors. That's when I learned that Maine is a place covered in fog. There's usually a cool breeze, and it smells like the things that live and die in the ocean. What is most exciting is that you and Bubbi were there to meet us. I learned that you and Bubbi are still on your boat. At first I was really confused: did we just travel for six hours only to end up 20 minutes from our house? But then I realized that although we were on the same boat, it was not in the same water. How did you get the whole boat up to Maine? I doubt it could have fit on an airplane. Did you take it on a road trip?
Once we were on the boat, I learned that you and Bubbi brought my travel crib and high chair all the way to Maine. That was very considerate of you, even though I didn't end up using my crib very much. (More on that later.) That night I learned that people eat lobster outside on long tables set up under tents, even when it's raining. In Maine, the people wear jackets in the summer. I learned that I have many more cousins than the ones I'd encountered in Florida, and some of those cousins are much closer to my age, like Juliet and Blake and Conor. Mommy says that next year I'll be big enough to run and play with all these cousins. Do you think she'll let me eat lobster, too?
At night on the boat, I learned that I would much prefer to sleep between Mommy and Daddy than to spend an entire night in my travel crib. The crib is comfortable enough, but my parents are much warmer. I had plenty of room in the middle of the bed. Mommy said something about hanging off the edge all night, but I slept just fine.
On Saturday, I learned that family and friends from Florida, Philadelphia, and even Canada had joined us to celebrate your birthday. Honestly, it was a bit of a nonstop blur of smiling faces and squeezing hands and the usual exclamations of, "she's so cute!" Sometimes all the attention got to be too much, and I would complain that I'd prefer to have a quiet hour of playing with you and Bubbi, but the boat was full of cousins to keep me entertained, and we had a busy schedule of parties. That night, I learned that adults like to dance. At first I was wary of so many people making so much noise indoors, but then the band started to play, and you hit the dance floor, and I was thoroughly entertained. I learned that I come from a family of people who know how to bust a move. We have rhythm! I also learned how to dance a "slow dance" with Mommy and Daddy. By 9:00 pm, I was tuckered out, so we returned to the boat for my bedtime routine. To tell you the truth, I think my parents were more tired than I was. I could have stayed at the dance and enjoyed a few more twirls around the dance floor, but I didn't want my poor parents to have to go to bed all alone.
That brings us to the next week's adventures...
This letter is two whole weeks late because I've been "out of town." I learned that people can travel far from home. These trips are called "adventures," and I have had quite a few of them recently. I'll write you a letter to commemorate each week, just like I usually do. This one will explain everything I learned during my 31st week.
Mommy and Daddy spent most of the early part of the week packing clothes and toys and quite a few diapers into suitcases. It's amazing how many outfits Mommy claimed I would need for the trip. And how many of them were pink. On the big day, I learned around 5:30 am that it is possible for Mommy to wake me up. I thought that I was performing a valuable service each morning by waking up my parents so that they could start their busy days. It never occurred to me that they were capable of waking up on their own. Our first stop on our way to see you was a huge and busy building called an "airport." I met TSA agents who took my bag of toys and diapers (which was a little upsetting) but then gave everything back. All sorts of strangers stopped to say hello and tell me I'm gorgeous. Nothing new there.
Mommy will tell you that most exciting thing we did that day was ride in an airplane. I disagree. What's so exciting about sitting still? For three hours, we did the usual - snack, snooze, and play - but only once did we leave our seats. That's when I learned that I can have my diaper changed in an incredibly small space. I had plenty of room on the table, but Mommy looked a bit cramped trying to get my diapers off and on. (That day she also changed me in a public restroom and in a car. My tushie saw more excitement than I did.)
When we landed in Boston, I learned that we were in a different state. I have no idea what this means, but during that week, I visited three new states. I'm beginning to understand that this world of ours is much, much larger than the distances Mommy drives in her car while running errands. In Boston, I learned that a rental car is like a regular car but smells like other families. Then I learned that a "road trip" is when Daddy drives a long distance while Mommy gives him directions. I figured they had that part of the journey under control, so I snuggled into my car seat and slept through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and a good bit of Maine. When I awoke, we were driving past houses not made of stucco and hundreds of trees that didn't look like the palm trees near our home. The car stopped at a marina, and Mommy declared, "welcome to Maine!" and opened the car doors. That's when I learned that Maine is a place covered in fog. There's usually a cool breeze, and it smells like the things that live and die in the ocean. What is most exciting is that you and Bubbi were there to meet us. I learned that you and Bubbi are still on your boat. At first I was really confused: did we just travel for six hours only to end up 20 minutes from our house? But then I realized that although we were on the same boat, it was not in the same water. How did you get the whole boat up to Maine? I doubt it could have fit on an airplane. Did you take it on a road trip?
Once we were on the boat, I learned that you and Bubbi brought my travel crib and high chair all the way to Maine. That was very considerate of you, even though I didn't end up using my crib very much. (More on that later.) That night I learned that people eat lobster outside on long tables set up under tents, even when it's raining. In Maine, the people wear jackets in the summer. I learned that I have many more cousins than the ones I'd encountered in Florida, and some of those cousins are much closer to my age, like Juliet and Blake and Conor. Mommy says that next year I'll be big enough to run and play with all these cousins. Do you think she'll let me eat lobster, too?
At night on the boat, I learned that I would much prefer to sleep between Mommy and Daddy than to spend an entire night in my travel crib. The crib is comfortable enough, but my parents are much warmer. I had plenty of room in the middle of the bed. Mommy said something about hanging off the edge all night, but I slept just fine.
On Saturday, I learned that family and friends from Florida, Philadelphia, and even Canada had joined us to celebrate your birthday. Honestly, it was a bit of a nonstop blur of smiling faces and squeezing hands and the usual exclamations of, "she's so cute!" Sometimes all the attention got to be too much, and I would complain that I'd prefer to have a quiet hour of playing with you and Bubbi, but the boat was full of cousins to keep me entertained, and we had a busy schedule of parties. That night, I learned that adults like to dance. At first I was wary of so many people making so much noise indoors, but then the band started to play, and you hit the dance floor, and I was thoroughly entertained. I learned that I come from a family of people who know how to bust a move. We have rhythm! I also learned how to dance a "slow dance" with Mommy and Daddy. By 9:00 pm, I was tuckered out, so we returned to the boat for my bedtime routine. To tell you the truth, I think my parents were more tired than I was. I could have stayed at the dance and enjoyed a few more twirls around the dance floor, but I didn't want my poor parents to have to go to bed all alone.
That brings us to the next week's adventures...
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Week 30
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that daddies get a special day all to themselves, just like mommies do. We celebrated at Savtah's house, where I learned that some high chairs have padded seats, unlike the cheap IKEA one Mommy makes me sit in at home. I also learned that chicken can be fried, and when the crispy skin is removed, the inside is tender and juicy and good enough to put in my mouth and on the floor. I might have swallowed some, but that's a secret I'm keeping to myself for now. Savtah called it schnitzel, and Daddy and Uncle Amir ate at least six pieces each. They're pieces were much larger than mine. We sat down on the floor after lunch so we could play with tissue paper and give Daddy presents. I got him a card and a set of drinking glasses engraved with the logo for the Zelda Brewing Company, which is the first of many of my entrepreneurial endeavors. Did you get my card? I learned this week that this special holiday is for all Daddies and not just my Daddy, and seeing as I know that you are Mommy's father, we picked out very special cards for you, too. Rest assured that I tasted yours before we sent it.
Speaking of fathers, Saba visited again all the way from Israel. He sat and talked in our living room for an hour on Friday and another hour on Saturday, and then we all had brunch at Savtah's house on Sunday. That's when I learned that I am probably allergic to eggs, too. Thank goodness for children's Benadryl.
While we're on the topic of illness, this week I learned that Mommies can get headaches. Mommy didn't seem quite right that day, but I chalked it up to the heat. It's been super hot and humid recently, and that makes us all cranky. Upon returning from a shopping trip to buy me a few extra summery outfits for our trip next week, Mommy put me in my crib to take a nap, and then she had to hide herself away in her cool and dark bedroom. I was happy to see Grandma waiting in the rocking chair when I woke up from my nap. In fact, I was so glad to see her that I decided to take an extra bonus nap on her shoulder while she rocked me. When I did finally wake up, we played with my toys for a while until Mommy felt better and joined us. That was the first time I can remember Mommy not feeling well. Sure, she's exhausted all the time, but that's only because she insists on feeding me in the middle of the night and not taking naps when I do during the day.
This week Daddy learned that my feet are ticklish. He was wiping away some fuzz that had accumulated around my toes while I slept in my terrycloth pajamas the previous night. He had a damp cloth in his hand, and when it brushed up against the bottom of my foot, I started to giggle. I continue to be full of sweet surprises.
I looked back at my previous letter to you and realized that forgot to mention I've been swimming a few times. Our pool is like a giant bath tub with cooler water. For some reason, I have to wear clothes, and Mommy and Daddy put on special outfits for the pool, too. So far we've stayed near the wide cement steps while we splash and enjoy the sunshine. I have my very own floating bouncer with a canopy to shield me from too much direct sunlight. I learned that because my parents have very white skin, I am susceptible to sunburn. I'm not sure what that means, but the sunblock, sun hat, umbrellas, and aforementioned canopy that Mommy insists on placing between me and the sun must mean that getting a sunburn would be very unpleasant. I'm sure glad I've got people looking out for my well being, even if they don't let me play with their iPhones.
In just a few days, I am going to find out what an airplane is, and soon after, I get to see you and Bubbi again. I hear that I will also meet many cousins and see a lobster or two. I will take copious notes about everything I learn. It should be quite the educational experience.
See you soon,
Zelda
This week I learned that daddies get a special day all to themselves, just like mommies do. We celebrated at Savtah's house, where I learned that some high chairs have padded seats, unlike the cheap IKEA one Mommy makes me sit in at home. I also learned that chicken can be fried, and when the crispy skin is removed, the inside is tender and juicy and good enough to put in my mouth and on the floor. I might have swallowed some, but that's a secret I'm keeping to myself for now. Savtah called it schnitzel, and Daddy and Uncle Amir ate at least six pieces each. They're pieces were much larger than mine. We sat down on the floor after lunch so we could play with tissue paper and give Daddy presents. I got him a card and a set of drinking glasses engraved with the logo for the Zelda Brewing Company, which is the first of many of my entrepreneurial endeavors. Did you get my card? I learned this week that this special holiday is for all Daddies and not just my Daddy, and seeing as I know that you are Mommy's father, we picked out very special cards for you, too. Rest assured that I tasted yours before we sent it.
Speaking of fathers, Saba visited again all the way from Israel. He sat and talked in our living room for an hour on Friday and another hour on Saturday, and then we all had brunch at Savtah's house on Sunday. That's when I learned that I am probably allergic to eggs, too. Thank goodness for children's Benadryl.
While we're on the topic of illness, this week I learned that Mommies can get headaches. Mommy didn't seem quite right that day, but I chalked it up to the heat. It's been super hot and humid recently, and that makes us all cranky. Upon returning from a shopping trip to buy me a few extra summery outfits for our trip next week, Mommy put me in my crib to take a nap, and then she had to hide herself away in her cool and dark bedroom. I was happy to see Grandma waiting in the rocking chair when I woke up from my nap. In fact, I was so glad to see her that I decided to take an extra bonus nap on her shoulder while she rocked me. When I did finally wake up, we played with my toys for a while until Mommy felt better and joined us. That was the first time I can remember Mommy not feeling well. Sure, she's exhausted all the time, but that's only because she insists on feeding me in the middle of the night and not taking naps when I do during the day.
This week Daddy learned that my feet are ticklish. He was wiping away some fuzz that had accumulated around my toes while I slept in my terrycloth pajamas the previous night. He had a damp cloth in his hand, and when it brushed up against the bottom of my foot, I started to giggle. I continue to be full of sweet surprises.
I looked back at my previous letter to you and realized that forgot to mention I've been swimming a few times. Our pool is like a giant bath tub with cooler water. For some reason, I have to wear clothes, and Mommy and Daddy put on special outfits for the pool, too. So far we've stayed near the wide cement steps while we splash and enjoy the sunshine. I have my very own floating bouncer with a canopy to shield me from too much direct sunlight. I learned that because my parents have very white skin, I am susceptible to sunburn. I'm not sure what that means, but the sunblock, sun hat, umbrellas, and aforementioned canopy that Mommy insists on placing between me and the sun must mean that getting a sunburn would be very unpleasant. I'm sure glad I've got people looking out for my well being, even if they don't let me play with their iPhones.
In just a few days, I am going to find out what an airplane is, and soon after, I get to see you and Bubbi again. I hear that I will also meet many cousins and see a lobster or two. I will take copious notes about everything I learn. It should be quite the educational experience.
See you soon,
Zelda
Friday, June 14, 2013
Week 29
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that I can roll both ways. I've been rolling from my front to back for months, and it never really occurred to me that I would ever need or want to make the return trip to my stomach. This week Mommy gave me a reason. One morning, I was happily playing on my tummy when I noticed that one of my toys was close but just out of reach. Mommy was watching me from the kitchen while doing something other than entertaining or feeding or changing me. I really wanted that toy. I yelled at it to come closer, but it ignored me. I thought that perhaps if I rolled onto my back, I'd be able to reach it, so I hurled myself in that direction. Alas, I was still not quite within grasping range. I called to Mommy, but she just stood there, watching me, and saying something unhelpful, such as, "C'mon Zelda, you can do it!" That got me so frustrated that I began to rock back and forth on my back until I ended up on my side, facing the toy. I stretched out my hands and attempted to elongate myself, but I just...couldn't...reach. That's when I kicked my legs. And you know what happened? I pushed myself onto my tummy! One good kick, and I had propelled myself all the way over. Finally, the toy was mine! Mommy started jumping up and down, squealing with glee. I guess she really wanted me to get that toy, too. At least, that's what I thought until she picked me up and swung me around, telling me how amazing I am. If I'm so amazing, why wouldn't she let me play with that toy?!? Since then, I've found this ability to roll in any direction both useful and entertaining. I enjoy rolling from back to tummy and then back again, just for the joy of moving about. Daddy says that soon I'll be "crawling." I'm not sure what that means, but if it gets me closer to my wayward toys, I'm all for it.
This week I also learned that Mommy and Daddy decided to install a baby fence. They hired a gentleman to spend some time in our back yard putting up a black mesh fence that doesn't really jive with the general style of our patio. I'm not sure if the fence is meant to keep babies in or out. Is there a band of feral babies roaming the neighborhood? Are we in danger? Or are we trying to herd wild babies into the fence for safe keeping? If it's the latter, I hope those babies can swim because the idiot who installed the fence put it all the way around our swimming pool. We already had a fence around the back yard. I think this is just redundant. If the cost of this fence came out of my toys and books fund, I'm going to complain.
Speaking of the great outdoors, this week I learned that animals have babies, too. While walking with Mommy, Grandma, and Grandma's dog, Lenny, we encountered a duck and her three little ducklings. They followed their mother right up to us. Those ducklings looked soft and squishy. I wanted to hold one and perhaps taste it, but Mommy wouldn't put me down on the ground. She's always preventing me from putting new things in my mouth. Doesn't she know how delicious the world can be?
Now that it's summer, I'm learning that the sun sets later in the day. Even at 8:00 pm, when it's time to put on my pajamas and begin my "nighttime routine," which sounds like a lounge act but isn't, the sun has not yet disappeared. I am a big fan of sunshine, so this turn of events seems like a good opportunity to get Mommy and Daddy to push back my bedtime. Surely they have nothing better to do than play with me until late into the evening. It's not like they want to spend some time alone without me, the liveliest member of the family. What would they possibly do that didn't involve me?
Just a few more weeks until we visit you and Bubbi. I think you'll both be amazed at how much I've grown. Who knows what amazing skills I will have acquired by then?
Over and over,
Zelda
This week I learned that I can roll both ways. I've been rolling from my front to back for months, and it never really occurred to me that I would ever need or want to make the return trip to my stomach. This week Mommy gave me a reason. One morning, I was happily playing on my tummy when I noticed that one of my toys was close but just out of reach. Mommy was watching me from the kitchen while doing something other than entertaining or feeding or changing me. I really wanted that toy. I yelled at it to come closer, but it ignored me. I thought that perhaps if I rolled onto my back, I'd be able to reach it, so I hurled myself in that direction. Alas, I was still not quite within grasping range. I called to Mommy, but she just stood there, watching me, and saying something unhelpful, such as, "C'mon Zelda, you can do it!" That got me so frustrated that I began to rock back and forth on my back until I ended up on my side, facing the toy. I stretched out my hands and attempted to elongate myself, but I just...couldn't...reach. That's when I kicked my legs. And you know what happened? I pushed myself onto my tummy! One good kick, and I had propelled myself all the way over. Finally, the toy was mine! Mommy started jumping up and down, squealing with glee. I guess she really wanted me to get that toy, too. At least, that's what I thought until she picked me up and swung me around, telling me how amazing I am. If I'm so amazing, why wouldn't she let me play with that toy?!? Since then, I've found this ability to roll in any direction both useful and entertaining. I enjoy rolling from back to tummy and then back again, just for the joy of moving about. Daddy says that soon I'll be "crawling." I'm not sure what that means, but if it gets me closer to my wayward toys, I'm all for it.
This week I also learned that Mommy and Daddy decided to install a baby fence. They hired a gentleman to spend some time in our back yard putting up a black mesh fence that doesn't really jive with the general style of our patio. I'm not sure if the fence is meant to keep babies in or out. Is there a band of feral babies roaming the neighborhood? Are we in danger? Or are we trying to herd wild babies into the fence for safe keeping? If it's the latter, I hope those babies can swim because the idiot who installed the fence put it all the way around our swimming pool. We already had a fence around the back yard. I think this is just redundant. If the cost of this fence came out of my toys and books fund, I'm going to complain.
Speaking of the great outdoors, this week I learned that animals have babies, too. While walking with Mommy, Grandma, and Grandma's dog, Lenny, we encountered a duck and her three little ducklings. They followed their mother right up to us. Those ducklings looked soft and squishy. I wanted to hold one and perhaps taste it, but Mommy wouldn't put me down on the ground. She's always preventing me from putting new things in my mouth. Doesn't she know how delicious the world can be?
Now that it's summer, I'm learning that the sun sets later in the day. Even at 8:00 pm, when it's time to put on my pajamas and begin my "nighttime routine," which sounds like a lounge act but isn't, the sun has not yet disappeared. I am a big fan of sunshine, so this turn of events seems like a good opportunity to get Mommy and Daddy to push back my bedtime. Surely they have nothing better to do than play with me until late into the evening. It's not like they want to spend some time alone without me, the liveliest member of the family. What would they possibly do that didn't involve me?
Just a few more weeks until we visit you and Bubbi. I think you'll both be amazed at how much I've grown. Who knows what amazing skills I will have acquired by then?
Over and over,
Zelda
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