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