Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that sometimes it isn't best to be the first born. For me, it's working out rather well. I get a tremendous amount of attention from my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and anyone else that Mommy and I encounter on our daily adventures. People are always taking my picture and telling me how beautiful I am. It's a pretty good gig.
However, on Monday (and Tuesday) I heard an epic story that included something horrible happening to a bunch of first born boys. Apparently a really mean guy in Egypt wouldn't let my people go, and their spokesman, a gentleman named Moses, warned the Egyptians that keeping slaves wasn't cool and would result in some crazy repercussions. (I'm not sure why my people were there in the first place; maybe they wanted to tour the Pyramids or take a cruise on the Nile.) To make a long story short, there were frogs and bugs and darkness, and then something bad happened to the first born Egyptian boys. Mommy wouldn't tell me what the bad thing was, so I can only assume it involved getting vaccinations or putting on socks, which are my two least favorite things in the world. After ten major hints from Moses, the Pharaoh (that's what they called the mean guy) let everyone head for the desert. There's more to this story, but to tell you the truth, I fell asleep somewhere around the second cup of wine and didn't wake up again until Mommy was collecting my $20 prize for finding the afikomen, which looked to me like the most boring dessert ever invented. The whole night was definitely a change of pace, but the strangest part was that we repeated the entire story - and the $20 that Mommy is "keeping safe" for me - the following night. Everyone at the table said we were doing this "next year in Jerusalem," so I guess this is an annual event. I'll try to stay awake longer next year so I can find out what really happened to those first born boys.
This week I also learned what a football is. My cousins, who were in town from Philadelphia, let me hold (and taste) their football while were were all playing on your living room rug. They told me that the next time we see each other, they want to teach me how to tackle. I think that's something like a tickle but involves more people. I guess I'll find out this summer.
Still happy about being the first born girl,
Zelda
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Week 17
Dear Zayde,
On this, the day I turn four months old, I am happy to report another stellar week of learning. I will share with you my new knowledge in the form of a vocabulary list.
Dog Sitting: Taking care of Grandma's dog, Lenny, while she spends the morning in the hospital. As you know, she's fine now, but Grandma had a bit of a scare this week when her tongue swelled up as a result of an allergic reaction to a still unknown substance. When I woke up one morning this week, Lenny was in our living room, eyeing my toys. (He has toys that squeak, too, but you don't see me trying to chew on someone else's kitty. Yet.) We had a generally uneventful day, but I did learn that dogs eat on the floor, much like Mommy does when she's trying to shove breakfast down her throat while sitting next to me as I play and fuss on my mat. I hope that when I grow up, I don't have to eat on the floor, too.
Parabola: The graphic representation of a quadratic formula, aka a pretty curve. Did you know that adding a constant value to the equation of a simple parabola (y = x(squared)) will shift it up or down the y-axis? I think that's pretty darn cool. Mommy was super excited to share this information with the teenage boy who comes to our house with his large math book and resigned-yet-hopeful expression on his face. He always says hello to me and smiles to reveal some sort of metal apparatus on his teeth. When he and Mommy are working with pencils and paper, his mommy takes me for lovely long walks around the neighborhood. I think this is an excellent arrangement for everyone.
Humidity: Stickiness that attacks you from all directions the moment you leave the house. Mommy and Daddy warned me about this, and now I know why. Humidity is the pits. It makes Mommy sweat and Daddy cranky, and it makes me wonder why we live in a place that is so darn wet even when it isn't raining. I am told this situation is preferable to a winter full of snow, sleet, and hail, but I am not so sure about that. I'll have to ask my cousin Jessie what she thinks about living in Michigan as compared to Florida. She's a college student and therefore knows everything.
Filibuster: Talking nonstop for an incredibly long time so that no one else can get a word in edgewise, even if you have nothing of particular value to say and just really want to hear the sound of your own voice for as long as you can muster the strength to vocalize. A gentleman in Washington, DC (our nation's capital) performed one of these recently, and I was so impressed by the amount of news coverage it garnered that I decided to try it myself. During one of our daily walks, I started talking to Mommy as soon as we left the house, and I didn't stop talking until we returned. In case I haven't mentioned it previously, it takes us just under an hour to circumnavigate our neighborhood. That means I talked NONSTOP for 55 minutes. Mommy tried to respond to me, as she usually does because she is polite and an excellent conversationalist, but I talked right over her. I wasn't about to let her take the floor. It was my filibuster, and I was going to milk it for all it was worth. FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES. I heard through the grapevine (Grandma) that you have been known to achieve far greater feats of uninterrupted speech, be they diatribes or lectures. Inspired by this, I will continue to practice my verbal skills whenever (while Mommy's on the phone, nap time, 4:30 a.m.) and wherever (in my crib, the car, Walgreens) I feel the urge.
Vaccinations: Torturous stabbing sensations that cause nausea, fatigue, and tremendously bad moods. I think I mentioned that I encountered these evil syringes two months ago, but to tell you the truth, my memory isn't the most reliable part of my ever-changing brain, so I was unprepared for yesterday's visit to the pediatrician. It started pleasantly enough. I was weighed and measured, and I learned that I've more than doubled my birth weight and grew half a foot in just four months. Mommy made some comment about how lugging around 15 pounds explained the increasing ache in her back, but I'm sure she's just kidding. I am a delight to lift, carry, and hold for hours upon hours. The doctor asked Mommy questions about what I can do (roll over, laugh, hold up my head, etc.), and as you know from reading my letters, I've achieved all these milestones, even if I don't choose to repeat them every day. I was feeling pleased with myself and looked forward to going home and telling Daddy all about what a big girl I am...and then the nurse walked in with those needles. I'm not going to sugar coat it. Those shots hurt like the dickens. Mommy held my hand and told me everything was going to be okay, but I wasn't listening because my thighs felt like they were on fire, and I was busy screaming and crying REAL TEARS. The abuse didn't last long, but the whole ordeal dragged on throughout the day and night. I tried eating, but I ended up hurling the contents of my stomach onto the changing table, the boppy, myself, and (of course) Mommy. I felt hot and cold at the same time. Mommy kept shoving something in my ear and saying numbers (99.5 was the highest). Eventually, she gave me some red liquid that did not taste like milk. I dribbled out most of it, but what I did swallow must have helped the situation because soon thereafter my thighs stopped throbbing, and I was able to eat and sleep in peace. The whole experience was wretched, however, and I made it clear to Mommy that I never want to go through that again. We have another appointment when I'm six months old, but I'm sure no one is cruel enough to do this to a baby every two months.
Laughter: The sound of happiness emitting from the depths of my soul; extreme giggling. Mommy bought me a new toy. It's a ball within a ball, and the inner ball has a bunch of little tiny balls that rattle around. This toy is the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. As soon as she removed it from the box and shook it, I started to laugh. Grandma was holding me, and as I mentioned earlier, she'd had a rough week, so what happened next is understandable. Mommy kept shaking that ball-within-a-ball, and I kept laughing. Then Grandma and Mommy started laughing, and that sounded equally hilarious to me, so I laughed more. Soon Grandma was laughing so hard that the black stuff around her eyes started smearing down her cheeks; she was crying and laughing at the same time. I thought only babies had intense and confusing mood swings, but I guess I was mistaken. Laughing is a pleasure, and I plan to do it as often as possible, as long as I am presented with ever-increasingly funny toys, facial expressions, and situational irony.
These are all the words I learned this week. I hope you are impressed with my growing vocabulary.
Love and Laughs,
Zelda
On this, the day I turn four months old, I am happy to report another stellar week of learning. I will share with you my new knowledge in the form of a vocabulary list.
Dog Sitting: Taking care of Grandma's dog, Lenny, while she spends the morning in the hospital. As you know, she's fine now, but Grandma had a bit of a scare this week when her tongue swelled up as a result of an allergic reaction to a still unknown substance. When I woke up one morning this week, Lenny was in our living room, eyeing my toys. (He has toys that squeak, too, but you don't see me trying to chew on someone else's kitty. Yet.) We had a generally uneventful day, but I did learn that dogs eat on the floor, much like Mommy does when she's trying to shove breakfast down her throat while sitting next to me as I play and fuss on my mat. I hope that when I grow up, I don't have to eat on the floor, too.
Parabola: The graphic representation of a quadratic formula, aka a pretty curve. Did you know that adding a constant value to the equation of a simple parabola (y = x(squared)) will shift it up or down the y-axis? I think that's pretty darn cool. Mommy was super excited to share this information with the teenage boy who comes to our house with his large math book and resigned-yet-hopeful expression on his face. He always says hello to me and smiles to reveal some sort of metal apparatus on his teeth. When he and Mommy are working with pencils and paper, his mommy takes me for lovely long walks around the neighborhood. I think this is an excellent arrangement for everyone.
Humidity: Stickiness that attacks you from all directions the moment you leave the house. Mommy and Daddy warned me about this, and now I know why. Humidity is the pits. It makes Mommy sweat and Daddy cranky, and it makes me wonder why we live in a place that is so darn wet even when it isn't raining. I am told this situation is preferable to a winter full of snow, sleet, and hail, but I am not so sure about that. I'll have to ask my cousin Jessie what she thinks about living in Michigan as compared to Florida. She's a college student and therefore knows everything.
Filibuster: Talking nonstop for an incredibly long time so that no one else can get a word in edgewise, even if you have nothing of particular value to say and just really want to hear the sound of your own voice for as long as you can muster the strength to vocalize. A gentleman in Washington, DC (our nation's capital) performed one of these recently, and I was so impressed by the amount of news coverage it garnered that I decided to try it myself. During one of our daily walks, I started talking to Mommy as soon as we left the house, and I didn't stop talking until we returned. In case I haven't mentioned it previously, it takes us just under an hour to circumnavigate our neighborhood. That means I talked NONSTOP for 55 minutes. Mommy tried to respond to me, as she usually does because she is polite and an excellent conversationalist, but I talked right over her. I wasn't about to let her take the floor. It was my filibuster, and I was going to milk it for all it was worth. FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES. I heard through the grapevine (Grandma) that you have been known to achieve far greater feats of uninterrupted speech, be they diatribes or lectures. Inspired by this, I will continue to practice my verbal skills whenever (while Mommy's on the phone, nap time, 4:30 a.m.) and wherever (in my crib, the car, Walgreens) I feel the urge.
Vaccinations: Torturous stabbing sensations that cause nausea, fatigue, and tremendously bad moods. I think I mentioned that I encountered these evil syringes two months ago, but to tell you the truth, my memory isn't the most reliable part of my ever-changing brain, so I was unprepared for yesterday's visit to the pediatrician. It started pleasantly enough. I was weighed and measured, and I learned that I've more than doubled my birth weight and grew half a foot in just four months. Mommy made some comment about how lugging around 15 pounds explained the increasing ache in her back, but I'm sure she's just kidding. I am a delight to lift, carry, and hold for hours upon hours. The doctor asked Mommy questions about what I can do (roll over, laugh, hold up my head, etc.), and as you know from reading my letters, I've achieved all these milestones, even if I don't choose to repeat them every day. I was feeling pleased with myself and looked forward to going home and telling Daddy all about what a big girl I am...and then the nurse walked in with those needles. I'm not going to sugar coat it. Those shots hurt like the dickens. Mommy held my hand and told me everything was going to be okay, but I wasn't listening because my thighs felt like they were on fire, and I was busy screaming and crying REAL TEARS. The abuse didn't last long, but the whole ordeal dragged on throughout the day and night. I tried eating, but I ended up hurling the contents of my stomach onto the changing table, the boppy, myself, and (of course) Mommy. I felt hot and cold at the same time. Mommy kept shoving something in my ear and saying numbers (99.5 was the highest). Eventually, she gave me some red liquid that did not taste like milk. I dribbled out most of it, but what I did swallow must have helped the situation because soon thereafter my thighs stopped throbbing, and I was able to eat and sleep in peace. The whole experience was wretched, however, and I made it clear to Mommy that I never want to go through that again. We have another appointment when I'm six months old, but I'm sure no one is cruel enough to do this to a baby every two months.
Laughter: The sound of happiness emitting from the depths of my soul; extreme giggling. Mommy bought me a new toy. It's a ball within a ball, and the inner ball has a bunch of little tiny balls that rattle around. This toy is the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. As soon as she removed it from the box and shook it, I started to laugh. Grandma was holding me, and as I mentioned earlier, she'd had a rough week, so what happened next is understandable. Mommy kept shaking that ball-within-a-ball, and I kept laughing. Then Grandma and Mommy started laughing, and that sounded equally hilarious to me, so I laughed more. Soon Grandma was laughing so hard that the black stuff around her eyes started smearing down her cheeks; she was crying and laughing at the same time. I thought only babies had intense and confusing mood swings, but I guess I was mistaken. Laughing is a pleasure, and I plan to do it as often as possible, as long as I am presented with ever-increasingly funny toys, facial expressions, and situational irony.
These are all the words I learned this week. I hope you are impressed with my growing vocabulary.
Love and Laughs,
Zelda
Friday, March 15, 2013
Week 16
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned to perform on camera. I think you've seen my work. In one of my most recent films, I bravely overcome being placed on my tummy and roll triumphantly to my back, all while complaining loudly and pathetically. The off-camera voice (currently my Mommy, but we're looking for a professional actor to replace her in future roles) at first ignores my whimpering, then offers useless words of encouragement, and finally shrieks with joy upon my successful acrobatic performance. In another film this week, I practice the fine art of waking up. With a baby sloth as my muse, I was able to keep my audience enrapt for over three minutes.
In a most profound and somewhat alarming moment this week, I learned that I have feet. I haven't figured out what to do with them yet, but so far they are fun to grab. I also enjoy staring at them. What I can't determine is how long I've had feet or from where they might have sprung. Mommy didn't seem surprised by the fact that these feet are now always within my grasp. Perhaps she is the one who gave them to me. I suppose it's possible that I've always had feet but never noticed them due to the obstructive nature of those darn socks my parents keep forcing me to wear.
I have to cut this letter short; it's a beautiful day, and Mommy says that something terrible called "humidity" is coming soon to ruin our outdoor adventures. We must make the most of this temperate weather while it lasts. If you need me, I'll be resting on Mommy's torso while she rocks us in the hammock.
Love and fancy feet,
Zelda
This week I learned to perform on camera. I think you've seen my work. In one of my most recent films, I bravely overcome being placed on my tummy and roll triumphantly to my back, all while complaining loudly and pathetically. The off-camera voice (currently my Mommy, but we're looking for a professional actor to replace her in future roles) at first ignores my whimpering, then offers useless words of encouragement, and finally shrieks with joy upon my successful acrobatic performance. In another film this week, I practice the fine art of waking up. With a baby sloth as my muse, I was able to keep my audience enrapt for over three minutes.
In a most profound and somewhat alarming moment this week, I learned that I have feet. I haven't figured out what to do with them yet, but so far they are fun to grab. I also enjoy staring at them. What I can't determine is how long I've had feet or from where they might have sprung. Mommy didn't seem surprised by the fact that these feet are now always within my grasp. Perhaps she is the one who gave them to me. I suppose it's possible that I've always had feet but never noticed them due to the obstructive nature of those darn socks my parents keep forcing me to wear.
I have to cut this letter short; it's a beautiful day, and Mommy says that something terrible called "humidity" is coming soon to ruin our outdoor adventures. We must make the most of this temperate weather while it lasts. If you need me, I'll be resting on Mommy's torso while she rocks us in the hammock.
Love and fancy feet,
Zelda
Friday, March 8, 2013
Week 15
Dear Zayde,
Hold onto your socks, Zayde! This was a very big week for yours truly. This week I learned two amazing new tricks. Are you ready for the big news?
I learned how to roll over! Can you believe it? I started out on my tummy, and then - lo and behold - I was somehow ON MY BACK. I feel so powerful and in charge of my destiny. On Sunday afternoon, my parents were playing with me in my bedroom. Mommy rolled me onto my side, and I kicked my leg over until I rolled onto my back. I thought that was rather fun, and my parents seemed to think it was incredibly entertaining, but things were about to get far more interesting. Mommy put me back on my stomach and showed me how to shift my weight until I rolled. Once I realized I had to ability to make this change of perspective happen, I was ready to do it on my own. To everyone's surprise, the next time she rolled me onto my stomach, I rolled right onto my back all by myself. Daddy started clapping. Then he high-fived Mommy, as though they had something to do with this fantastic display of baby fortitude. I repeated my new skill two more times in rapid succession, and then I became drowsy and cranky. Using all those muscles is hard work and extremely tiring. Since that day, I haven't rolled over even once. Mommy keeps trying to recreate the exact environment and sequence of events that led to my rolling over, but I'm holding back for now. I don't want my parents to get too comfortable with the idea that I am the perfect baby who achieves all milestones ahead of time and without much effort. Best to keep their expectations low so that everyone is pleasantly surprised when I do exhibit greatness.
Rolling over was my second new trick this week. The first, the one for which Mommy has been begging me for weeks, was a lot less taxing on my little body. On Saturday morning, Daddy plucked me from my crib for my first diaper change of the day. Once I was happily dry and clean, he accompanied me to the living room, where we began our morning routine of inspecting the weather conditions, getting him a glass of juice, and discussing how each of us slept the previous night. When Mommy joined us, I was reclining in Daddy's arms and facing out toward the world, which is my new favorite position. She walked up to us, gave me a huge smile, and declared, "Good morning, my beautiful daughter!" For some reason, I found her to be particularly wonderful and somewhat hilarious at that moment, so I decided to giggle. That's right, Zayde, I can giggle! I admit that my laughter is still a little awkward and sounds not unlike a cross between a miniature Vespa revving up on a cold day and a cartoon mouse being water-boarded. It's a work in progress. The best part of this new ability is the reaction I get from my parents, who immediately let loose with their own uproarious chortles and guffaws. I've giggled a few times since that morning, but never when one might expect. Gotta keep them guessing, right?
In addition to rolling over and giggling, I also learned how to become what Mommy refers to as an "active eater." Put simply, I now kick her shoulder and punch and scratch her bosom while I'm noshing. Maybe it's because she keeps telling me I'm such a fat baby, and I feel like I need to burn some of these milk-made calories. Perhaps it's because I am trying to take a more assertive role in my meal times. In any case, I'm no longer just lying there and taking it, so to speak.
Today Mommy took me to see my cousin Jessica, who is home from her second semester of nursing school. She held me and talked with me, and I learned that college students tend to stay up late at night and like to sleep a lot during the day. I wonder if that means I'm a college student.
Speaking of sleeping during the day, it's just about time for my post-second-lunch, pre-first-dinner nap. I'd better start fussing and yelling so Mommy knows I'm tired.
Lots of love and giggles,
Zelda
Hold onto your socks, Zayde! This was a very big week for yours truly. This week I learned two amazing new tricks. Are you ready for the big news?
I learned how to roll over! Can you believe it? I started out on my tummy, and then - lo and behold - I was somehow ON MY BACK. I feel so powerful and in charge of my destiny. On Sunday afternoon, my parents were playing with me in my bedroom. Mommy rolled me onto my side, and I kicked my leg over until I rolled onto my back. I thought that was rather fun, and my parents seemed to think it was incredibly entertaining, but things were about to get far more interesting. Mommy put me back on my stomach and showed me how to shift my weight until I rolled. Once I realized I had to ability to make this change of perspective happen, I was ready to do it on my own. To everyone's surprise, the next time she rolled me onto my stomach, I rolled right onto my back all by myself. Daddy started clapping. Then he high-fived Mommy, as though they had something to do with this fantastic display of baby fortitude. I repeated my new skill two more times in rapid succession, and then I became drowsy and cranky. Using all those muscles is hard work and extremely tiring. Since that day, I haven't rolled over even once. Mommy keeps trying to recreate the exact environment and sequence of events that led to my rolling over, but I'm holding back for now. I don't want my parents to get too comfortable with the idea that I am the perfect baby who achieves all milestones ahead of time and without much effort. Best to keep their expectations low so that everyone is pleasantly surprised when I do exhibit greatness.
Rolling over was my second new trick this week. The first, the one for which Mommy has been begging me for weeks, was a lot less taxing on my little body. On Saturday morning, Daddy plucked me from my crib for my first diaper change of the day. Once I was happily dry and clean, he accompanied me to the living room, where we began our morning routine of inspecting the weather conditions, getting him a glass of juice, and discussing how each of us slept the previous night. When Mommy joined us, I was reclining in Daddy's arms and facing out toward the world, which is my new favorite position. She walked up to us, gave me a huge smile, and declared, "Good morning, my beautiful daughter!" For some reason, I found her to be particularly wonderful and somewhat hilarious at that moment, so I decided to giggle. That's right, Zayde, I can giggle! I admit that my laughter is still a little awkward and sounds not unlike a cross between a miniature Vespa revving up on a cold day and a cartoon mouse being water-boarded. It's a work in progress. The best part of this new ability is the reaction I get from my parents, who immediately let loose with their own uproarious chortles and guffaws. I've giggled a few times since that morning, but never when one might expect. Gotta keep them guessing, right?
In addition to rolling over and giggling, I also learned how to become what Mommy refers to as an "active eater." Put simply, I now kick her shoulder and punch and scratch her bosom while I'm noshing. Maybe it's because she keeps telling me I'm such a fat baby, and I feel like I need to burn some of these milk-made calories. Perhaps it's because I am trying to take a more assertive role in my meal times. In any case, I'm no longer just lying there and taking it, so to speak.
Today Mommy took me to see my cousin Jessica, who is home from her second semester of nursing school. She held me and talked with me, and I learned that college students tend to stay up late at night and like to sleep a lot during the day. I wonder if that means I'm a college student.
Speaking of sleeping during the day, it's just about time for my post-second-lunch, pre-first-dinner nap. I'd better start fussing and yelling so Mommy knows I'm tired.
Lots of love and giggles,
Zelda
Friday, March 1, 2013
Week 14
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned how to confuse the heck out of my parents. Remember how I told you that last week I'd learned to regress and began to once again wake up every few hours? Well, that trick became bothersome after a week, so I've decided to mix it up and leave Mommy guessing. One night I'll get up at 2:30, 5:30, and 7:00 a.m., and the next night I might sleep from 10:00 p.m. until 6:00 a.m. The funny part is that Mommy will think something is terribly wrong that second night and will burst from her bed around 3:00 a.m. thinking that I've stopped breathing or somehow strangled myself in the bars of the crib. She will run as fast as her incredibly out-of-shape body will carry her to my room, and then she will peer with haste at my chest to see if I am still alive. Isn't that adorable?
I am beginning to understand that people are obsessed with my size. Every time someone who hasn't seen me in a week or more visits, all I hear is, "She's getting so big!" It's even more predictable when that person holds me and exclaims, "She's so heavy!" I notice that no one says this to my Mommy, and she is MUCH bigger and far heavier than I. And don't even get me started on the size of my Daddy. I know that I am growing out of my outfits at what Mommy calls "an alarming rate," but is it really so surprising that I am getting bigger? I was under the impression that my current occupation is to grow. Please advise if I am mistaken on this account. I have no idea how I might cease my daily increases in length and girth, but I'll try if that's what I'm supposed to do.
Speaking of growing, my hair is continuing to creep across my head and down my neck. Mommy says I'm getting a mullet, which is apparently quite hilarious. I don't get the joke.
This week I learned that I can be away from Mommy and Daddy for more than a couple of hours at a time. On Sunday evening, Grandma and Savtah came to the house while my parents (that's a grown-up word for Mommies and Daddies) went to something called a "basketball game." That night we played on my mat, bounced around the house, took a long walk, enjoyed a series of fascinating conversations while I reclined on my changing table, and generally enjoyed ourselves. While I pretended to sleep in Grandma's arms, I got a little peek at what was on TV that night. I think it was called the "Oscars," but all I saw was a bunch of skinny people in shiny clothes smiling and posing. All in all, it was a lovely evening. At first I felt guilty for enjoying myself so much while my parents were gone, but now I think that it's okay for us to explore our separate interests from time to time. It takes a lot of energy to keep my Mommy entertained all week, and when Daddy is home all day on the weekends, I've got two people to keep smiling for hours on end. Sometimes a baby just needs a little break from all that hard work, you know?
Also on Sunday, I had the great privilege of meeting Mommy's friend that she's known since high school. (That is a place of learning and teenage angst where I will some day be forced to spend my days.) Her name is Kanchan, and she is very beautiful and calm. She wears sparkly jewelry that I would have loved to suck on if Mommy hadn't warned Kanchan before I could get any of it into my mouth. Mommy and Kanchan talked about her upcoming wedding. I'm not sure what that is, but it has something to do with flowers and dresses. Considering that I happen to own a plethora of dresses with flowers on them, I think it would be a shame if I didn't attend the wedding. Kanchan said that Indian weddings can last five whole days, so I told Mommy she'd better pack A LOT of diapers.
It's getting late, and Mommy likes to go out for a walk just before sunset. Tonight I plan to have some milk, spit up maybe once or twice, and spend as much time as possible sucking on my hands. After a few weeks of careful consideration, I've decided that - next to milk - hands are the most delicious things in the world.
Oops; I almost forgot: I want to thank you again for that meaningful conversation we shared on Monday. I had no idea that grown-ups could speak my language, and I found it both thrilling and comforting that someone finally took the time to listen to what I had to say and respond in kind. I don't know where you learned to speak Baby, but I'm glad you do. I look forward to our next gab fest.
With love and gurgles,
Zelda
This week I learned how to confuse the heck out of my parents. Remember how I told you that last week I'd learned to regress and began to once again wake up every few hours? Well, that trick became bothersome after a week, so I've decided to mix it up and leave Mommy guessing. One night I'll get up at 2:30, 5:30, and 7:00 a.m., and the next night I might sleep from 10:00 p.m. until 6:00 a.m. The funny part is that Mommy will think something is terribly wrong that second night and will burst from her bed around 3:00 a.m. thinking that I've stopped breathing or somehow strangled myself in the bars of the crib. She will run as fast as her incredibly out-of-shape body will carry her to my room, and then she will peer with haste at my chest to see if I am still alive. Isn't that adorable?
I am beginning to understand that people are obsessed with my size. Every time someone who hasn't seen me in a week or more visits, all I hear is, "She's getting so big!" It's even more predictable when that person holds me and exclaims, "She's so heavy!" I notice that no one says this to my Mommy, and she is MUCH bigger and far heavier than I. And don't even get me started on the size of my Daddy. I know that I am growing out of my outfits at what Mommy calls "an alarming rate," but is it really so surprising that I am getting bigger? I was under the impression that my current occupation is to grow. Please advise if I am mistaken on this account. I have no idea how I might cease my daily increases in length and girth, but I'll try if that's what I'm supposed to do.
Speaking of growing, my hair is continuing to creep across my head and down my neck. Mommy says I'm getting a mullet, which is apparently quite hilarious. I don't get the joke.
This week I learned that I can be away from Mommy and Daddy for more than a couple of hours at a time. On Sunday evening, Grandma and Savtah came to the house while my parents (that's a grown-up word for Mommies and Daddies) went to something called a "basketball game." That night we played on my mat, bounced around the house, took a long walk, enjoyed a series of fascinating conversations while I reclined on my changing table, and generally enjoyed ourselves. While I pretended to sleep in Grandma's arms, I got a little peek at what was on TV that night. I think it was called the "Oscars," but all I saw was a bunch of skinny people in shiny clothes smiling and posing. All in all, it was a lovely evening. At first I felt guilty for enjoying myself so much while my parents were gone, but now I think that it's okay for us to explore our separate interests from time to time. It takes a lot of energy to keep my Mommy entertained all week, and when Daddy is home all day on the weekends, I've got two people to keep smiling for hours on end. Sometimes a baby just needs a little break from all that hard work, you know?
Also on Sunday, I had the great privilege of meeting Mommy's friend that she's known since high school. (That is a place of learning and teenage angst where I will some day be forced to spend my days.) Her name is Kanchan, and she is very beautiful and calm. She wears sparkly jewelry that I would have loved to suck on if Mommy hadn't warned Kanchan before I could get any of it into my mouth. Mommy and Kanchan talked about her upcoming wedding. I'm not sure what that is, but it has something to do with flowers and dresses. Considering that I happen to own a plethora of dresses with flowers on them, I think it would be a shame if I didn't attend the wedding. Kanchan said that Indian weddings can last five whole days, so I told Mommy she'd better pack A LOT of diapers.
It's getting late, and Mommy likes to go out for a walk just before sunset. Tonight I plan to have some milk, spit up maybe once or twice, and spend as much time as possible sucking on my hands. After a few weeks of careful consideration, I've decided that - next to milk - hands are the most delicious things in the world.
Oops; I almost forgot: I want to thank you again for that meaningful conversation we shared on Monday. I had no idea that grown-ups could speak my language, and I found it both thrilling and comforting that someone finally took the time to listen to what I had to say and respond in kind. I don't know where you learned to speak Baby, but I'm glad you do. I look forward to our next gab fest.
With love and gurgles,
Zelda
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