Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that crowns make princesses rather sweaty. It's a minor inconvenience, but I thought I'd mention it. Luckily, Mommy knows how to make the bath water the perfect temperature each day, and I enjoy the ritual of hair washing. I haven't figured out how Mommy and Daddy clean themselves, considering that there is no way they fit into my tub. They usually smell pretty good (except for the days I've shared with them one or more of my body fluids), so I'm guessing they just stand in the little blue tub instead of reclining as I do.
This week I've almost perfected my ability to sit up without falling over. If I lean too far to the side or toward the front, I can catch myself with my hands. If I lean too far back, I am at the mercy of gravity and tend to topple. Mommy usually places my Boppy pillow behind me, which offers an excellent reprieve from the hard work of using my abdominal muscles for extended periods. When I'm fatigued, all I need to do is recline and lounge while gnawing on one or more of my favorite toys.
Speaking of toys, I learned this week that I am finally able to reach the hanging toys on my Exersaucer. This might not seem like a big deal, but those things have been taunting me for months.
Just yesterday I learned to make the ppbbll sound with my lips. I think it's called "blowing raspberries." Mommy and Daddy make this sound whenever I'm cranky because it usually causes me to stop what I'm doing and stare at them as though they've completely lost their minds. Now that I can make this sound, I understand that they don't do it because they're loony; they do it because it tickles the lips in a most delightful way.
Speaking of delightful, this week I learned that yogurt is delicious. Cheese, green beans, watermelon, rice cakes, and avocado are also tasty treats. Broccoli is a little disturbing. It reminds me of trees. I love trees, and the thought of shrinking them and eating them is more than unnerving. It's barbaric. When I see broccoli, I get very upset and yell at it. Mommy finds this amusing. She clearly has a sick sense of humor.
This week, in honor of turning 6 months, Mommy AND Daddy escorted me to the doctor's office. I thought we were going to have a party, but instead, the doctor just poked me a little and then sent in that [EDITED FOR PROFANITY] nurse, who once again stuck needles in my thighs. What is her problem? Did I offend her months ago? Why does she hate my thighs so much? Mommy and Daddy just stood there watching this catastrophe unfold, but don't worry; I got my revenge later in the day. I deposited the entirety of my stomach's contents onto Mommy. TWICE. I even aimed well enough to get a bit down her shirt. When Daddy returned home from work, I pooped on him. So there.
Half a year old and wiser than ever,
Zelda
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Week 25
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about offices. On Thursday, I visited two offices. First, Mommy brought me to see Uncle Brad in his office, which contains a maze of tall gray walls and friendly people sitting in corners. Some of them talk on the phone, and they all have computers. I know what a computer is because I've seen Mommy and Daddy "do work" on their computers at home. That's also how I learned about musical theater. Thanks to Daddy and something called YouTube, I now know all the words to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Uncle Brad and the people in his office smiled at me, told me I'm beautiful, and squealed with delight when I gave them my "big" smile. Adults are so easy to entertain.
After we left Uncle Brad and his maze, we got back in the car and drove to Grandma's office. Just like the first office, this one had people sitting in corners. Unlike the first office, this one had lots of shoes in every color you can imagine. When I got hungry, Mommy brought me into a quiet space in the upstairs warehouse, and I enjoyed my milk amid the soles and heels of a thousand loafers, pumps, and wedges. I sure do lead an exciting life.
I also learned this week that avocado is slippery and delicious. Broccoli, which looks like tiny trees, is easy to hold but not as tasty as Mommy promised.
The most important thing I learned this week is that every princess needs a crown.
Mommy took me to see the most friendly lady I have ever met. I learned that she's called an "occupational therapist," which must be a fancy way of saying that she makes crowns for princesses. She works near Daddy's office, and we have visited her twice in the last few weeks. The day I met her, a thunderstorm arrived just moments after Mommy and I walked into the building. I heard the crash-bang-booms of thunder, but I wasn't scared at all. Instead, I was having a grand ol' time sitting on the floor with Mommy, playing and chatting. Ari, the bestower of crowns, met us in her "office," which doesn't seem at all like the other offices. It has a giant floor mat, with a mirror on the wall, and a portable DVD player that shows some sort of purple dinosaur singing and dancing (neither of which it does well.) There are no people sitting in corners, either. Ari likes babies a lot. She likes babies so much that I am sure she will never ever stick my leg with one of those needles at the pediatrician's office. The highlight of that first visit was when Ari placed me inside a high tech 3D scanner. She and her assistant said they were taking head shots, which must mean that they're compiling my portfolio and will soon send me out on auditions, probably commercials at first and then maybe a television pilot. Mommy explained that the head shots would also help Ari design my crown. Apparently the most important thing about a crown is how it fits a princess's head. We wouldn't want it falling off in the middle of a ball or while I'm meeting my adoring public.
This week we returned to Ari's place to pick up my crown. Again, we played on the floor mat and talked about how beautiful I am. Then Ari placed upon my head my very own crown. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but those first few moments, I was so overwhelmed with her generosity and felt so honored that I burst into tears. Thankfully, I soon regained my composure, and I spent the rest of our time there practicing my sitting skills and chewing on the teething toys Mommy keeps in her bag. By the time we got home, I'd almost forgotten that I was wearing my crown. It wasn't until Mommy took it off to wipe my spritzing brow that I remembered, and I shared with her my annoyance at her trying to take it on and off. I'd prefer to keep it on so no one ever forgets my station in life.
Mommy seems upset by this turn of events. She tries to show me a stiff upper lip, but I can hear the catch in her voice when she talks about my crown. I think I know what the problem is. She's jealous. She is green with envy every time she sees my crown because she desperately wants one, too. And why shouldn't she? My crown is awesome. It's pink and well-designed. It fits my head perfectly. Poor Mommy can't have a crown like mine. I heard Ari say that these crowns are only for babies, and we only get to wear them for a few months. I assume Mommy will get me a new crown when I grow out of this one. Maybe the next one will have diamonds. You haven't seen my in my crown yet because you and Bubbi are traveling toward cooler weather, but I know that when we see each other in a few weeks, you will agree that I have never been more adorable. If Mommy is still jealous by then, I think it would be a lovely gesture for you to get her a crown, too. Of course it won't be as special as mine, but we don't want the poor woman to feel left out.
Royally yours,
Zelda
This week I learned about offices. On Thursday, I visited two offices. First, Mommy brought me to see Uncle Brad in his office, which contains a maze of tall gray walls and friendly people sitting in corners. Some of them talk on the phone, and they all have computers. I know what a computer is because I've seen Mommy and Daddy "do work" on their computers at home. That's also how I learned about musical theater. Thanks to Daddy and something called YouTube, I now know all the words to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Uncle Brad and the people in his office smiled at me, told me I'm beautiful, and squealed with delight when I gave them my "big" smile. Adults are so easy to entertain.
After we left Uncle Brad and his maze, we got back in the car and drove to Grandma's office. Just like the first office, this one had people sitting in corners. Unlike the first office, this one had lots of shoes in every color you can imagine. When I got hungry, Mommy brought me into a quiet space in the upstairs warehouse, and I enjoyed my milk amid the soles and heels of a thousand loafers, pumps, and wedges. I sure do lead an exciting life.
I also learned this week that avocado is slippery and delicious. Broccoli, which looks like tiny trees, is easy to hold but not as tasty as Mommy promised.
The most important thing I learned this week is that every princess needs a crown.
Mommy took me to see the most friendly lady I have ever met. I learned that she's called an "occupational therapist," which must be a fancy way of saying that she makes crowns for princesses. She works near Daddy's office, and we have visited her twice in the last few weeks. The day I met her, a thunderstorm arrived just moments after Mommy and I walked into the building. I heard the crash-bang-booms of thunder, but I wasn't scared at all. Instead, I was having a grand ol' time sitting on the floor with Mommy, playing and chatting. Ari, the bestower of crowns, met us in her "office," which doesn't seem at all like the other offices. It has a giant floor mat, with a mirror on the wall, and a portable DVD player that shows some sort of purple dinosaur singing and dancing (neither of which it does well.) There are no people sitting in corners, either. Ari likes babies a lot. She likes babies so much that I am sure she will never ever stick my leg with one of those needles at the pediatrician's office. The highlight of that first visit was when Ari placed me inside a high tech 3D scanner. She and her assistant said they were taking head shots, which must mean that they're compiling my portfolio and will soon send me out on auditions, probably commercials at first and then maybe a television pilot. Mommy explained that the head shots would also help Ari design my crown. Apparently the most important thing about a crown is how it fits a princess's head. We wouldn't want it falling off in the middle of a ball or while I'm meeting my adoring public.
This week we returned to Ari's place to pick up my crown. Again, we played on the floor mat and talked about how beautiful I am. Then Ari placed upon my head my very own crown. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but those first few moments, I was so overwhelmed with her generosity and felt so honored that I burst into tears. Thankfully, I soon regained my composure, and I spent the rest of our time there practicing my sitting skills and chewing on the teething toys Mommy keeps in her bag. By the time we got home, I'd almost forgotten that I was wearing my crown. It wasn't until Mommy took it off to wipe my spritzing brow that I remembered, and I shared with her my annoyance at her trying to take it on and off. I'd prefer to keep it on so no one ever forgets my station in life.
Mommy seems upset by this turn of events. She tries to show me a stiff upper lip, but I can hear the catch in her voice when she talks about my crown. I think I know what the problem is. She's jealous. She is green with envy every time she sees my crown because she desperately wants one, too. And why shouldn't she? My crown is awesome. It's pink and well-designed. It fits my head perfectly. Poor Mommy can't have a crown like mine. I heard Ari say that these crowns are only for babies, and we only get to wear them for a few months. I assume Mommy will get me a new crown when I grow out of this one. Maybe the next one will have diamonds. You haven't seen my in my crown yet because you and Bubbi are traveling toward cooler weather, but I know that when we see each other in a few weeks, you will agree that I have never been more adorable. If Mommy is still jealous by then, I think it would be a lovely gesture for you to get her a crown, too. Of course it won't be as special as mine, but we don't want the poor woman to feel left out.
Royally yours,
Zelda
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Week 24
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about food. Sure, I've been consuming milk for 24 weeks, and that has sustained me well. Some folks would say it's more than sustained me, given the number of squishy rolls I sport and the fact that I've gained more than ten pounds since the day we left the hospital. "Real food, it turns out, is much more...hands on. For a few months, I've been watching my parents and many other adults shove things in their mouths. What struck me as odd and rather baffling was that unlike when I chew on my toys, the colorful items adults put in their mouths somehow disappear. I couldn't figure out where they were hiding everything until this week. As you know, I recently sucked on a piece of apple, which was quite tasty but otherwise uneventful. This week, during a gathering of some of the female members of my extended family, Bubbi stuck her finger in my mouth, and it tasted very odd. Mommy said something like, "Did you just feed her hummus?" I wasn't listening because I was trying to figure out how to make my mouth stop tasting like the desert. For future reference, I don't like it when food sneaks up on me.
What I do like, I have learned, is bagels. Twice this weekend, I attended a truly wonderful tradition known as "brunch," and on each occasion, Mommy put a chunk of bagel on my high chair tray. It was love at first bite. Bagels are so easy to hold, and they offer both a hard part that feels delightful on my aching gums and a soft part that gets mushy when I suck it. Little pieces fall off the inner part of the bagel, and I can actually swallow them. Can you believe it? I can swallow something other than milk! (I've also licked a piece of melon and played with some lettuce, but I think it's fair to say that bagels are the greatest food ever created.) This is the beginning of a whole new series of culinary adventures. Who knows what tastes and textures await?
Speaking of uses of a high chair, in addition to making it extremely easy to enjoy a bagel, my comfortable and efficient new furniture piece is perfect for testing out my theories about gravity. I learned that my toys do indeed fall from heights greater than my Bumbo chair, although the satisfying sound they make when they hit the ground is slightly delayed. Mommy is still fetching my toys when they reach the floor. She loves bending down and placing them on the high chair's tray.
This week I learned that Mommy is neurotic. When I woke up one morning with red and swollen bumps on my hands, wrists, and face, she totally freaked out. She even dragged me to the doctor's office! I kept trying to tell her I was fine; I didn't have a fever and wasn't uncomfortable, but there's not stopping my mother when she gets that panicked look in her eyes. The doctor took one look at me and said, "bug bites." Mommy was relieved and probably felt a little foolish for thinking the worst (hives, measles, foot and mouth disease, etc.), but I told her it's better to be safe than sorry and that I don't mind going to see the doctor as long as there are no needles involved.
Mommy isn't just neurotic about illness, though. She's neurotic about my sleeping. Every night, long after I've fallen asleep, she creeps into my room like a cat burglar and quietly gets as close to my crib as possible in order to - you won't believe this - make sure I am breathing. Sometimes she puts her hand under my nose, but most often she places her palm lightly upon my chest and waits to feel it rise and fall a few times before she makes a little sigh of relief and tiptoes out of the room. What a loon! Apparently, my Aunt Jill is similarly (and overly) concerned about her children's breathing patterns at night. I heard her telling Mommy that until just a few years ago, she was doing the same late night double-checking, and her kids (my cousins) are all what you would call "big kids." Two of them are already driving! I don't know what's up with these Mommies. Don't they have anything better to do in the middle of the night? Don't they want to sleep?
Speaking of sleep, I learned this week that Mommy was right about the importance of naps. When I don't take my usual three naps a day (or if those naps are particularly short), I get cranky. I whine and cry and throw toys and let everyone around me know that I AM TIRED AND VERY ANGRY ABOUT IT. Please don't tell Mommy that I know she was right. We wouldn't want her thinking she knows what she's doing.
The most interesting thing I learned this week is that there is a special day just for mothers. It's called "Mother's Day" because whoever named it was not very creative. On that day, Mommies get to take naps while Daddies play with babies, and in the afternoon, everyone eats bagels. Clearly, I'm a fan.
I heard that you and Bubbi are going on a trip, and I won't see you for a month. That makes me sad, but I will try not to miss you too much and instead focus on the new skills I'm developing so that when we do see each other again, you will be amazed by my growth and prowess. Bon voyage, Zayde.
Aboard, aboard...the wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
Your Zelda
This week I learned about food. Sure, I've been consuming milk for 24 weeks, and that has sustained me well. Some folks would say it's more than sustained me, given the number of squishy rolls I sport and the fact that I've gained more than ten pounds since the day we left the hospital. "Real food, it turns out, is much more...hands on. For a few months, I've been watching my parents and many other adults shove things in their mouths. What struck me as odd and rather baffling was that unlike when I chew on my toys, the colorful items adults put in their mouths somehow disappear. I couldn't figure out where they were hiding everything until this week. As you know, I recently sucked on a piece of apple, which was quite tasty but otherwise uneventful. This week, during a gathering of some of the female members of my extended family, Bubbi stuck her finger in my mouth, and it tasted very odd. Mommy said something like, "Did you just feed her hummus?" I wasn't listening because I was trying to figure out how to make my mouth stop tasting like the desert. For future reference, I don't like it when food sneaks up on me.
What I do like, I have learned, is bagels. Twice this weekend, I attended a truly wonderful tradition known as "brunch," and on each occasion, Mommy put a chunk of bagel on my high chair tray. It was love at first bite. Bagels are so easy to hold, and they offer both a hard part that feels delightful on my aching gums and a soft part that gets mushy when I suck it. Little pieces fall off the inner part of the bagel, and I can actually swallow them. Can you believe it? I can swallow something other than milk! (I've also licked a piece of melon and played with some lettuce, but I think it's fair to say that bagels are the greatest food ever created.) This is the beginning of a whole new series of culinary adventures. Who knows what tastes and textures await?
Speaking of uses of a high chair, in addition to making it extremely easy to enjoy a bagel, my comfortable and efficient new furniture piece is perfect for testing out my theories about gravity. I learned that my toys do indeed fall from heights greater than my Bumbo chair, although the satisfying sound they make when they hit the ground is slightly delayed. Mommy is still fetching my toys when they reach the floor. She loves bending down and placing them on the high chair's tray.
This week I learned that Mommy is neurotic. When I woke up one morning with red and swollen bumps on my hands, wrists, and face, she totally freaked out. She even dragged me to the doctor's office! I kept trying to tell her I was fine; I didn't have a fever and wasn't uncomfortable, but there's not stopping my mother when she gets that panicked look in her eyes. The doctor took one look at me and said, "bug bites." Mommy was relieved and probably felt a little foolish for thinking the worst (hives, measles, foot and mouth disease, etc.), but I told her it's better to be safe than sorry and that I don't mind going to see the doctor as long as there are no needles involved.
Mommy isn't just neurotic about illness, though. She's neurotic about my sleeping. Every night, long after I've fallen asleep, she creeps into my room like a cat burglar and quietly gets as close to my crib as possible in order to - you won't believe this - make sure I am breathing. Sometimes she puts her hand under my nose, but most often she places her palm lightly upon my chest and waits to feel it rise and fall a few times before she makes a little sigh of relief and tiptoes out of the room. What a loon! Apparently, my Aunt Jill is similarly (and overly) concerned about her children's breathing patterns at night. I heard her telling Mommy that until just a few years ago, she was doing the same late night double-checking, and her kids (my cousins) are all what you would call "big kids." Two of them are already driving! I don't know what's up with these Mommies. Don't they have anything better to do in the middle of the night? Don't they want to sleep?
Speaking of sleep, I learned this week that Mommy was right about the importance of naps. When I don't take my usual three naps a day (or if those naps are particularly short), I get cranky. I whine and cry and throw toys and let everyone around me know that I AM TIRED AND VERY ANGRY ABOUT IT. Please don't tell Mommy that I know she was right. We wouldn't want her thinking she knows what she's doing.
The most interesting thing I learned this week is that there is a special day just for mothers. It's called "Mother's Day" because whoever named it was not very creative. On that day, Mommies get to take naps while Daddies play with babies, and in the afternoon, everyone eats bagels. Clearly, I'm a fan.
I heard that you and Bubbi are going on a trip, and I won't see you for a month. That makes me sad, but I will try not to miss you too much and instead focus on the new skills I'm developing so that when we do see each other again, you will be amazed by my growth and prowess. Bon voyage, Zayde.
Aboard, aboard...the wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
Your Zelda
Monday, May 6, 2013
Week 23
Dear Zayde,
This one is a little late because I was having far too much fun this weekend staying with you and Bubbi. I learned that I could sleep in a "travel crib" and that Mommy is capable of getting that travel crib into and out of a very small bag. Pure magic! I also learned that horses can run extremely fast and that this fact is wildly exciting for people wearing large colorful hats and drinking something that smells sweet and minty (and makes my parents and you and Bubbi seem extra happy). Maybe someday I will be able to ride a horse. Mommy keeps promising me that she will buy my a pony if I will "just go to sleep already," and I think she thinks I don't know what a pony is, but I do. And I want one. (Just not enough to nap when she wants me to nap.)
The rest of this letter will be in the form of a Venn Diagram (of sorts because Mommy can't figure out how to draw a proper Venn Diagram with this blog software despite my yelling at her to TRY HARDER.)
This one is a little late because I was having far too much fun this weekend staying with you and Bubbi. I learned that I could sleep in a "travel crib" and that Mommy is capable of getting that travel crib into and out of a very small bag. Pure magic! I also learned that horses can run extremely fast and that this fact is wildly exciting for people wearing large colorful hats and drinking something that smells sweet and minty (and makes my parents and you and Bubbi seem extra happy). Maybe someday I will be able to ride a horse. Mommy keeps promising me that she will buy my a pony if I will "just go to sleep already," and I think she thinks I don't know what a pony is, but I do. And I want one. (Just not enough to nap when she wants me to nap.)
The rest of this letter will be in the form of a Venn Diagram (of sorts because Mommy can't figure out how to draw a proper Venn Diagram with this blog software despite my yelling at her to TRY HARDER.)
Things That I Find Fascinating:
Mommy brushing her hair
Daddy's beard
Trees
iPhones
Lights
Water Bottles Toppling Over
Running Water
Water Bottles Toppling Over
Running Water
Rain
Daddy's rendition of Michael McDonald
Things That Are Delicious:
My Clothes
My Burp Cloths
Other People's Shirts
Blankets
(Really, Any Kind of Cloth)
That Piece of Apple Mommy Let Me Suck on Yesterday
My Hands
The Straps on My Stroller and Car Seat
Things That Are Both Fascinating and Delicious:
Plastic Things that Squeak
My Feet
Mommy's Face
(Really, anyone's face is both hilarious and yummy.)
Other People's Fingers
Anything My Mouth Can Reach on My Exersaucer
Books
Of course, these lists are just the start of a long life of delicious and fascinating things. I look forward to exploring this big crazy world with all five senses...just as soon as I can figure out how to master the art of mobility.
Hope you have a lovely and lip smacking kind of week,
Zelda
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)