Week 18

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