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
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