Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about our nation's history. No, not really. I'm 19 months old. There's no way I'm going to sit through a retelling of the colonies' political and philosophical break from England. I did wear red, white, and blue, though, and I heard some loud bangs outside around dinner time that I was told have something to do with independence and Florida's lax fireworks laws. My parents seemed nervous about what would happen that night, but I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I had dinner, took a bath, got into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and then did the usual nighttime shtick with Mommy before heading off to dreamland. I have a vague recollection of hearing rapid-fire thunder for a few hours, but we've had thunderstorms day and night around here for the last few weeks, so I didn't let the noise inhibit my beauty sleep.
This week I also learned that there are stores filled with furniture. I learned that we need a new couch because someone in our house is destroying ours. I think it might be Daddy. He's kind of a big guy. The best way to shop for a couch, apparently, is to sit on as many couches as you can find. Once we had tried out all the couches in one store, we moved onto the next. I noticed that when my parents looked at the tags on most of the couches, they had the same look on their faces as when they're changing my diaper and I've had a particularly significant "personal event." (That's what Bubbie calls it, right?)
Lastly, this week I learned that white cauliflower is almost as good as purple cauliflower. Almost, but not quite.
Let these facts be submitted to a candid world,
Zelda
Monday, July 21, 2014
June 23 - June 29 (Year Two, Month 20)
Dear Zayde,
This week was chock full of learning adventures. It started off slowly but surely when I learned that the whole world drinks from a big cup that's somewhere in Brazil. When they're not drinking from the cup, people run around a big grassy field and kick a ball. My favorite part is identifying the ball on the television screen and yelling, "ball!" I never got to see the cup, though. Maybe that was on another channel.
The educational aspects of the week really picked up when Mommy and Daddy and I woke up early on Thursday and drove to the airport. Did you know that planes are much bigger on the ground than when they're flying over our house? On our flight to Boston, I learned that it is not okay to kick the seat in front of me, unlock and lock the tray table, or crawl on the floor. Thank goodness Mommy and Daddy brought two new lift-the-flap books and a learn-to-dress monkey on the plane or I never would have kept them occupied and distracted past take-off.
On the drive from Boston to Maine, I learned that Mommy can, in fact, give me milk while the car is in motion. The trick it to have someone else driving.
In Maine, I learned that radishes are born in dirt and need to be rescued. Strawberries fresh from Aunt Linda's garden are much better than the ones Mommy gets at the store. I don't understand why we don't always have them at home. I learned that some driveways are covered in millions of tiny stones, all of which enjoy being scooped, shuffled, and tossed. I learned that the water in kiddie pools in Maine is much colder than in Florida, but seeing as I was allowed to swim without a bathing suit, I didn't mind at all. I also learned about the pure joy of running naked through the grass while eating a homemade ice pop. Linda, who is an artist, showed me how to use the pop to paint on my tummy. I had so much fun! Why didn't everyone else join me? Sure, the pool was a little small for all of us to fit at once, but we could have taken turns. (I'm learning about taking turns. I'm not good at it yet, but I try.)
I learned that wearing a life jacket is a necessary precaution when taking a ride on a boat. I learned that driving a boat is easy and fun. All those buttons and levers! I learned that seals are lazy water dogs that bark and lay in the sun and slip into the water when people get too close. Most importantly, I learned that it's easy to fall asleep with the roar of the engines and the drone of rushing wind in my face. The peaceful din reminds me of being in the womb. I miss those carefree days. Now it's all get-up-and-play, eat-your-snack, don't-climb-onto-the-counters, and other big kid nonsense. Oh, to be a fetus again!
This week I learned lobster isn't what I expected. The outside is hard and red, which is fine, but the inside is boring and white. You and Bubbie and everyone else were adamant that I would love eating lobster, but I proved you all wrong. Rather, I proved that I am stubborn enough to refuse to try something that I might like but then again might not.
Speaking of things that I don't like, I need to add "falling down the stairs" to my ever-growing list. You have a lot of stairs, Zayde, and they call to me like the sirens called to Odysseus. Just like those darn sirens, the stairs are beautiful but dangerous, and I found out what happens when I'm not a careful climber. Luckily, I also found out just how quick Mommy's reflexes are, and I didn't tumble all the way to the bottom. I have a feeling she's going to try to get you to put up a baby gate. Fight the power, Zayde! Let me roam freely! I promise I won't blame you when I crack open my skull.
On the topic of going up and down, I learned that I LOVE hills. Big hills, little hills - it doesn't matter. I love to run up and down the hills as fast as I can. We don't have many hills where we live, so it was such a pleasant surprise to encounter a variety of elevations in New England. I know this is a big favor to ask, but would you and Bubbie mind bringing back a hill with you when you return to Florida this winter? I don't care how big they are or if they're covered in grass. I just want to liven up our backyard a little. If you bring back more than one, I'll bet we can get an excellent price for it. The demand among Florida toddlers for decent climbing hills must be huge!
After a few glorious days with you and Bubbie, my parents took me back to Boston, where I learned how to ride a zebra. Well, I learned how to ride a pretend Zebra that was attached to a
carousel in Boston Common. I also learned how to wade in Frog Pond, which has no frogs. I learned that we have friends in Massachusetts that my parents have known for a long time. I met their sons, Nate and Jake, and we had a lovely time trading sticks, observing a ladybug in its natural habitat, sharing snacks, and walking through the park. Nate is a much older boy; he's almost in preschool! He says I'm adorable, which is true, and we made a plan to Skype chat. (That's our little secret, okay, Zayde? We don't need to let my other boyfriends - Jordy, Colin, Gabe, etc. know about Nate.)
This was a big week for all of us, and I hear that Mommy is crazy enough to take me back to see you all by herself. I hope she brings more stickers. I used up all the other ones on the return flight. You'd be amazed at how many stickers I can fit on Daddy's forehead.
Wheels up,
Zelda
This week was chock full of learning adventures. It started off slowly but surely when I learned that the whole world drinks from a big cup that's somewhere in Brazil. When they're not drinking from the cup, people run around a big grassy field and kick a ball. My favorite part is identifying the ball on the television screen and yelling, "ball!" I never got to see the cup, though. Maybe that was on another channel.
The educational aspects of the week really picked up when Mommy and Daddy and I woke up early on Thursday and drove to the airport. Did you know that planes are much bigger on the ground than when they're flying over our house? On our flight to Boston, I learned that it is not okay to kick the seat in front of me, unlock and lock the tray table, or crawl on the floor. Thank goodness Mommy and Daddy brought two new lift-the-flap books and a learn-to-dress monkey on the plane or I never would have kept them occupied and distracted past take-off.
On the drive from Boston to Maine, I learned that Mommy can, in fact, give me milk while the car is in motion. The trick it to have someone else driving.
In Maine, I learned that radishes are born in dirt and need to be rescued. Strawberries fresh from Aunt Linda's garden are much better than the ones Mommy gets at the store. I don't understand why we don't always have them at home. I learned that some driveways are covered in millions of tiny stones, all of which enjoy being scooped, shuffled, and tossed. I learned that the water in kiddie pools in Maine is much colder than in Florida, but seeing as I was allowed to swim without a bathing suit, I didn't mind at all. I also learned about the pure joy of running naked through the grass while eating a homemade ice pop. Linda, who is an artist, showed me how to use the pop to paint on my tummy. I had so much fun! Why didn't everyone else join me? Sure, the pool was a little small for all of us to fit at once, but we could have taken turns. (I'm learning about taking turns. I'm not good at it yet, but I try.)
I learned that wearing a life jacket is a necessary precaution when taking a ride on a boat. I learned that driving a boat is easy and fun. All those buttons and levers! I learned that seals are lazy water dogs that bark and lay in the sun and slip into the water when people get too close. Most importantly, I learned that it's easy to fall asleep with the roar of the engines and the drone of rushing wind in my face. The peaceful din reminds me of being in the womb. I miss those carefree days. Now it's all get-up-and-play, eat-your-snack, don't-climb-onto-the-counters, and other big kid nonsense. Oh, to be a fetus again!
This week I learned lobster isn't what I expected. The outside is hard and red, which is fine, but the inside is boring and white. You and Bubbie and everyone else were adamant that I would love eating lobster, but I proved you all wrong. Rather, I proved that I am stubborn enough to refuse to try something that I might like but then again might not.
Speaking of things that I don't like, I need to add "falling down the stairs" to my ever-growing list. You have a lot of stairs, Zayde, and they call to me like the sirens called to Odysseus. Just like those darn sirens, the stairs are beautiful but dangerous, and I found out what happens when I'm not a careful climber. Luckily, I also found out just how quick Mommy's reflexes are, and I didn't tumble all the way to the bottom. I have a feeling she's going to try to get you to put up a baby gate. Fight the power, Zayde! Let me roam freely! I promise I won't blame you when I crack open my skull.
On the topic of going up and down, I learned that I LOVE hills. Big hills, little hills - it doesn't matter. I love to run up and down the hills as fast as I can. We don't have many hills where we live, so it was such a pleasant surprise to encounter a variety of elevations in New England. I know this is a big favor to ask, but would you and Bubbie mind bringing back a hill with you when you return to Florida this winter? I don't care how big they are or if they're covered in grass. I just want to liven up our backyard a little. If you bring back more than one, I'll bet we can get an excellent price for it. The demand among Florida toddlers for decent climbing hills must be huge!
After a few glorious days with you and Bubbie, my parents took me back to Boston, where I learned how to ride a zebra. Well, I learned how to ride a pretend Zebra that was attached to a
carousel in Boston Common. I also learned how to wade in Frog Pond, which has no frogs. I learned that we have friends in Massachusetts that my parents have known for a long time. I met their sons, Nate and Jake, and we had a lovely time trading sticks, observing a ladybug in its natural habitat, sharing snacks, and walking through the park. Nate is a much older boy; he's almost in preschool! He says I'm adorable, which is true, and we made a plan to Skype chat. (That's our little secret, okay, Zayde? We don't need to let my other boyfriends - Jordy, Colin, Gabe, etc. know about Nate.)
This was a big week for all of us, and I hear that Mommy is crazy enough to take me back to see you all by herself. I hope she brings more stickers. I used up all the other ones on the return flight. You'd be amazed at how many stickers I can fit on Daddy's forehead.
Wheels up,
Zelda
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Month 19
Dear Zayde,
This month I learned about empowerment.
I learned that using a real fork allows me to stab my chicken and bring to to my own mouth. Those baby forks are practically useless with their blunt plastic tines, but grown-up forks are powerful tools. I have a feeling that knives would make me a truly formidable opponent against a piece of meat, but no one will let me near them. It's ageism, I tell you! I learned that spoons can be useful for scooping, but my personal favorite motion will always be the powerful stab-and-jab method.
I learned that I can propel myself while riding my musical train. Now that I'm almost 32 inches tall, my feet reach the ground when I sit on my train, and I can make that sucker careen across the floor, all while blaring "The Bear Went Over the Mountain" at an annoyingly loud volume.
I learned that I can sit on my potty all by myself. I still have no idea why everyone wants me to sit on a plastic bowl with my pants around my ankles, but I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. It has something to do with diapers. That's about all I've gleaned thus far.
I learned that I can get food out from between my teeth with the help of floss. (Full disclosure: I make Mommy do it because I've learned to be wary of string. I really can't stand when my bananas have any of that stringy nonsense between the fruit and its peel, and if my shirt suddenly sprouts a wayward string, I find it necessary to complain at the top of my lungs until someone removes it.)
I learned that baby showers are full of excitement. We celebrated back-to-back babies-to-be this month, and if the babies themselves are half as fun as the parties in their honor, then maybe I've been wrong about not wanting a sibling. At the first baby shower (for Ian and Tabitha's baby boy), I learned how to wear a lei and how to walk up and down (and up and down) an imposing flight of metal stairs. Good times. The next day, we joined in the celebration for Camille and Jay's baby girl. That's where I learned how to jump around a bounce house and sway to the reggae music being played by a DJ. There's only one thing I don't really understand about baby showers: where were the babies? And why weren't we in the shower? Adults come up with the strangest names for their events. In unrelated news, Tabitha and Camille are getting really fat.
With my own two feet,
Zelda
This month I learned about empowerment.
I learned that using a real fork allows me to stab my chicken and bring to to my own mouth. Those baby forks are practically useless with their blunt plastic tines, but grown-up forks are powerful tools. I have a feeling that knives would make me a truly formidable opponent against a piece of meat, but no one will let me near them. It's ageism, I tell you! I learned that spoons can be useful for scooping, but my personal favorite motion will always be the powerful stab-and-jab method.
I learned that I can propel myself while riding my musical train. Now that I'm almost 32 inches tall, my feet reach the ground when I sit on my train, and I can make that sucker careen across the floor, all while blaring "The Bear Went Over the Mountain" at an annoyingly loud volume.
I learned that I can sit on my potty all by myself. I still have no idea why everyone wants me to sit on a plastic bowl with my pants around my ankles, but I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. It has something to do with diapers. That's about all I've gleaned thus far.
I learned that I can get food out from between my teeth with the help of floss. (Full disclosure: I make Mommy do it because I've learned to be wary of string. I really can't stand when my bananas have any of that stringy nonsense between the fruit and its peel, and if my shirt suddenly sprouts a wayward string, I find it necessary to complain at the top of my lungs until someone removes it.)
I learned that baby showers are full of excitement. We celebrated back-to-back babies-to-be this month, and if the babies themselves are half as fun as the parties in their honor, then maybe I've been wrong about not wanting a sibling. At the first baby shower (for Ian and Tabitha's baby boy), I learned how to wear a lei and how to walk up and down (and up and down) an imposing flight of metal stairs. Good times. The next day, we joined in the celebration for Camille and Jay's baby girl. That's where I learned how to jump around a bounce house and sway to the reggae music being played by a DJ. There's only one thing I don't really understand about baby showers: where were the babies? And why weren't we in the shower? Adults come up with the strangest names for their events. In unrelated news, Tabitha and Camille are getting really fat.
I learned that there are three methods of shopping, and there are certain advantages and disadvantages to each. The first method is being attached to Mommy with the help of our baby carrier. From that vantage, I can see what she sees. I've gathered that she's short for adult standards, but the extra few feet of elevation make a huge difference to me. She keeps me warm up there, too, which is a significant plus when we're in Publix, where shopping is a pleasure but often chilly. The main disadvantage of being worn is my inability to roam or reach. Sometimes that doesn't bother me, but on occasion, I spy something begging to be grabbed, and then I'm stuck and out of luck. The second method of shopping is sitting in the cart. I'm still higher up than usual, but it's not quite as good as being held. In the cart I reign over the treasures we collect as we walk through the aisles and remove items from the shelves. This allows me to turn around, pick up one of the treasured items, and throw it on the ground. I don't do this often, but it's nice to know that I have the option. (There was an incident involving a bottle of Benadryl in Target that resulted in a "clean up in aisle 4" and Mommy taking the blame, which I thought was incredibly cool of her. I'll have to remember that favor one night when I feel like waking her up at 2:00 AM.) The problem with sitting in the cart is that I am neither touching Mommy nor truly free to express myself as a full-fledged walker. It's nice to ride, but only as long as I want to and not one second longer. The third - and most empowering - of the shopping methods is walking on my own. Having the freedom to browse, read labels, test out the elasticity of any given product...I can't really express how valuable all that is to me. Sure, I'm too short to reach most of the shelves, and I do get tired of walking about the time that Mommy needs me to hurry-up-and-take-my-hand-and-let's-GO, but these are small prices to pay for the sheer joy of unencumbered locomotion. There's nothing more powerful than a gal on the go.
With my own two feet,
Zelda
Monday, June 16, 2014
Month 18, Part 2
Dear Zayde,
This month warrants an addendum because I left out a few key lessons.
I was taking a bath (long about a Saturday night) not long ago when I learned a new trick. Mommy and Daddy were both crammed into that little space between the tub, toilet, and linen closet that evening, so I decided to bust out a whole new level of precociousness. I can't recall how the game started, but by the end, I was pointing to each of their fingers while they counted. I learned that each finger gets its own name. There's a one and a four, and some others that I'm sure I'll need to remember when Daddy starts stealing my french fries and I have to take inventory. My parents seem truly amazed by this skill. I tried to explain to them that I've been pointing at things for over a year, but once again they either weren't listening or didn't understand my current (and admittedly limited) vocabulary, so they remain impressed by something Mommy is calling "one to one correspondence."
This month I learned that I can keep Grandma here longer than she'd planned simply by hiding her car keys. It really is much simpler than whining and clawing at her neck when she tries to say good-bye.
On Mother's Day, I learned that some company sells blankets that feature giant pictures of Daddy and me. I can't for the life of me imagine who else in the world would want to buy giant woven pictures of us. Other than Savtah, who else would want to see us that big on their bedspread? This manufacturer's product design team is narrowing the market segment way too much; if you own any of their stock, you should dump it immediately because that company won't last long.
I think that about covers the lesson I missed during the last update. I've already compiled some hilarious and/or poignant tidbits from this month that I'll send soon. I hope that wherever you are, it isn't as painfully hot and humid as it is here. See you in the computer!
Better lock up your keys,
Zelda
This month warrants an addendum because I left out a few key lessons.
I was taking a bath (long about a Saturday night) not long ago when I learned a new trick. Mommy and Daddy were both crammed into that little space between the tub, toilet, and linen closet that evening, so I decided to bust out a whole new level of precociousness. I can't recall how the game started, but by the end, I was pointing to each of their fingers while they counted. I learned that each finger gets its own name. There's a one and a four, and some others that I'm sure I'll need to remember when Daddy starts stealing my french fries and I have to take inventory. My parents seem truly amazed by this skill. I tried to explain to them that I've been pointing at things for over a year, but once again they either weren't listening or didn't understand my current (and admittedly limited) vocabulary, so they remain impressed by something Mommy is calling "one to one correspondence."
This month I learned that I can keep Grandma here longer than she'd planned simply by hiding her car keys. It really is much simpler than whining and clawing at her neck when she tries to say good-bye.
On Mother's Day, I learned that some company sells blankets that feature giant pictures of Daddy and me. I can't for the life of me imagine who else in the world would want to buy giant woven pictures of us. Other than Savtah, who else would want to see us that big on their bedspread? This manufacturer's product design team is narrowing the market segment way too much; if you own any of their stock, you should dump it immediately because that company won't last long.
I think that about covers the lesson I missed during the last update. I've already compiled some hilarious and/or poignant tidbits from this month that I'll send soon. I hope that wherever you are, it isn't as painfully hot and humid as it is here. See you in the computer!
Better lock up your keys,
Zelda
Monday, May 26, 2014
Month 18
Dear Zayde,
This month I learned that for a few weeks every year, you and Bubbie live in a house. This time, your house had a pool, in which I learned that Bubbie can swim and doesn't mind when I throw smooth rocks into the shallow end. Two weeks ago, I learned that even though I can't visit you in person for a while, I can still see you and talk to you using Mommy's computer. I learned that I can give you a hug and show you how I dance and sing. I can also show you how I rearrange furniture. During our conversations, I've learned how to make you and Bubbie disappear just by closing the laptop. I was hoping that I had freed you from your flat-screened prison, but alas, Mommy just dialed you up again. One of these days I'll figure out how to break you two out of there. I really am a whiz with digital devices: I learned how to open the photo album on Mommy's iPhone, scroll through the photos until I find a video, and press the play button. I can close apps, make phone calls to everyone on her speed dial list, play music, and even start and stop a Sesame Street video with her Netflix app. I'll bet you couldn't do that when you were 18 months old.
I learned how to carry a bowl of cereal or fruit all the way from the kitchen to the table in the living room without spilling. The trick is to use two hands and to concentrate. On an unrelated note, I learned that our vacuum has a detachable hose that is remarkably efficient at sucking up cereal that somehow migrated across the rug and under the couch.
This month, I learned how to make Mommy blush. In addition to the many other words I can say
words I can say, such as tushie, airplane, and Zelda, I can say clock. That's not what makes Mommy blush. I think it's how I tend to pronounce clock in front of friends and strangers. I usually omit the "L" sound, which doesn't seem like such a big deal, but for some reason, it causes Mommy to get pink in the cheeks. Maybe she's embarrassed about the constant passing of time. I've heard that women in their 30s are like that.
I now understand the point of "walking" toys, such as my push-around butterfly, my mini-vacuum, and the plastic domed apparatus from Bubbie that goes "Pop! Pop!" when I roll it across your living room. Speaking of loud noises, this month I learned about music shows. Mommy took me to a live concert for little kids. My friends Eric and Gabe met us there, along with their parents. Our proximity to the large and resonating electric guitar and booming drum set was off-putting at first, but within a few minutes, I got into the groove and pulled out all my best moves - the tushie wiggle, the bended-knee dip, the hands in the air, and even the closed fist clapping. Our Mommy and Me teacher was the singer in the band. I didn't realize who she was at first because she was wore a series of costumes wigs. She sang "Disney" songs, which apparently will mean something to me in a few years when I visit a nearby planet known as DisneyWorld. I hope we ride an airplane to get there. This month I learned that the buzzing noises I hear high above our house are in fact airplanes, a fact I like to share with everyone whenever we hear the aforementioned buzzing. I always point upward to indicate that the airplane is above us in case someone thinks I am confusing the sound with a car or motorcycle, both of which make very different noises and both of which I enjoy identifying.
A few weeks ago, I learned that - on top of all the other previously identified substances - I am allergic to fish. I'll refrain from further comment because I'm kind of over the self-pity thing now that I know I can eat Oreos and that Mommy will let me stick my entire arm into a mostly empty peanut butter jar just to feel the glory of squishy deliciousness. We all have our crosses to bear; mine happens to be edible.
Best to focus on the good things, like the day I learned that Mommy is great at keeping secrets, and my Aunt Janet is capable of showing up at our front door out of the blue, and Grandma can be truly and wonderfully flabbergasted. Apparently Mommy and Aunt Janet were planning her surprise visit for months. They didn't tell me because I tend to blab, and I don't blame them. You should have seen the look on Grandma's face when her sister walked in the door. It was a magical moment. Everyone cried. (Except for me, that is. I only cry for things like being senselessly removed from the pool just because I'm shivering or being denied a third cookie or having my diaper changed or having my hair washed or being woken up from a nap I didn't want to take in the first place.) We spent the weekend doing super fun activities like touring the Young at Art Museum, which is a lot like the Please Touch Museum we visited in Philadelphia. That's where I learned how to bang on African drums, crawl through a carpeted tsunami, and dig for dinosaur bones. We spent Mother's Day at the beach, where I learned that Aunt Janet is really good at lifting me into the air. She's also a pro at making sand castles and doesn't mind at all when I flatten them. I hope we get to play with Aunt Janet again very soon.
This month at the playground I learned how to walk up the steps and slide down the slide all by myself. I still need some help with the seesaw and the swings, but I am confident I'll master those skills as soon as I grow a few more inches. At home, I learned to stack blocks (and tofu squares). It's still more fun to knock down other people's creations than to build my own, but stacking is cool, too. I'm working on lifting a stack of blocks onto another stack. I figure that adding three blocks at a time instead of one will save time so we can get to the knocking down part faster, but - as much as I loathe to admit this - I am lacking severely in the fine and gross motor skills departments. I still fall down when I run too fast (or when I'm walking on uneven ground or down a hill), and my crayon sketches never turn out the way I'd planned. The other day I tried to draw a cat, but in the end it just looked like a bunch of random scribbles. Unless I improve considerably, I think we can rule out "next great artist," "professional block stacker," and "downhill racer" from my list of future careers. Do people get paid to shove large quantities of strawberries into their mouths? I'm asking because I'm really good at that. Mommy says I'm whining at a third grade level already, so maybe that could be another back up plan for me. You know, if the app developer thing doesn't work out.
See you on Skype,
Zelda
This month I learned that for a few weeks every year, you and Bubbie live in a house. This time, your house had a pool, in which I learned that Bubbie can swim and doesn't mind when I throw smooth rocks into the shallow end. Two weeks ago, I learned that even though I can't visit you in person for a while, I can still see you and talk to you using Mommy's computer. I learned that I can give you a hug and show you how I dance and sing. I can also show you how I rearrange furniture. During our conversations, I've learned how to make you and Bubbie disappear just by closing the laptop. I was hoping that I had freed you from your flat-screened prison, but alas, Mommy just dialed you up again. One of these days I'll figure out how to break you two out of there. I really am a whiz with digital devices: I learned how to open the photo album on Mommy's iPhone, scroll through the photos until I find a video, and press the play button. I can close apps, make phone calls to everyone on her speed dial list, play music, and even start and stop a Sesame Street video with her Netflix app. I'll bet you couldn't do that when you were 18 months old.
I learned how to carry a bowl of cereal or fruit all the way from the kitchen to the table in the living room without spilling. The trick is to use two hands and to concentrate. On an unrelated note, I learned that our vacuum has a detachable hose that is remarkably efficient at sucking up cereal that somehow migrated across the rug and under the couch.
This month, I learned how to make Mommy blush. In addition to the many other words I can say
words I can say, such as tushie, airplane, and Zelda, I can say clock. That's not what makes Mommy blush. I think it's how I tend to pronounce clock in front of friends and strangers. I usually omit the "L" sound, which doesn't seem like such a big deal, but for some reason, it causes Mommy to get pink in the cheeks. Maybe she's embarrassed about the constant passing of time. I've heard that women in their 30s are like that.
I now understand the point of "walking" toys, such as my push-around butterfly, my mini-vacuum, and the plastic domed apparatus from Bubbie that goes "Pop! Pop!" when I roll it across your living room. Speaking of loud noises, this month I learned about music shows. Mommy took me to a live concert for little kids. My friends Eric and Gabe met us there, along with their parents. Our proximity to the large and resonating electric guitar and booming drum set was off-putting at first, but within a few minutes, I got into the groove and pulled out all my best moves - the tushie wiggle, the bended-knee dip, the hands in the air, and even the closed fist clapping. Our Mommy and Me teacher was the singer in the band. I didn't realize who she was at first because she was wore a series of costumes wigs. She sang "Disney" songs, which apparently will mean something to me in a few years when I visit a nearby planet known as DisneyWorld. I hope we ride an airplane to get there. This month I learned that the buzzing noises I hear high above our house are in fact airplanes, a fact I like to share with everyone whenever we hear the aforementioned buzzing. I always point upward to indicate that the airplane is above us in case someone thinks I am confusing the sound with a car or motorcycle, both of which make very different noises and both of which I enjoy identifying.
A few weeks ago, I learned that - on top of all the other previously identified substances - I am allergic to fish. I'll refrain from further comment because I'm kind of over the self-pity thing now that I know I can eat Oreos and that Mommy will let me stick my entire arm into a mostly empty peanut butter jar just to feel the glory of squishy deliciousness. We all have our crosses to bear; mine happens to be edible.
Best to focus on the good things, like the day I learned that Mommy is great at keeping secrets, and my Aunt Janet is capable of showing up at our front door out of the blue, and Grandma can be truly and wonderfully flabbergasted. Apparently Mommy and Aunt Janet were planning her surprise visit for months. They didn't tell me because I tend to blab, and I don't blame them. You should have seen the look on Grandma's face when her sister walked in the door. It was a magical moment. Everyone cried. (Except for me, that is. I only cry for things like being senselessly removed from the pool just because I'm shivering or being denied a third cookie or having my diaper changed or having my hair washed or being woken up from a nap I didn't want to take in the first place.) We spent the weekend doing super fun activities like touring the Young at Art Museum, which is a lot like the Please Touch Museum we visited in Philadelphia. That's where I learned how to bang on African drums, crawl through a carpeted tsunami, and dig for dinosaur bones. We spent Mother's Day at the beach, where I learned that Aunt Janet is really good at lifting me into the air. She's also a pro at making sand castles and doesn't mind at all when I flatten them. I hope we get to play with Aunt Janet again very soon.
This month at the playground I learned how to walk up the steps and slide down the slide all by myself. I still need some help with the seesaw and the swings, but I am confident I'll master those skills as soon as I grow a few more inches. At home, I learned to stack blocks (and tofu squares). It's still more fun to knock down other people's creations than to build my own, but stacking is cool, too. I'm working on lifting a stack of blocks onto another stack. I figure that adding three blocks at a time instead of one will save time so we can get to the knocking down part faster, but - as much as I loathe to admit this - I am lacking severely in the fine and gross motor skills departments. I still fall down when I run too fast (or when I'm walking on uneven ground or down a hill), and my crayon sketches never turn out the way I'd planned. The other day I tried to draw a cat, but in the end it just looked like a bunch of random scribbles. Unless I improve considerably, I think we can rule out "next great artist," "professional block stacker," and "downhill racer" from my list of future careers. Do people get paid to shove large quantities of strawberries into their mouths? I'm asking because I'm really good at that. Mommy says I'm whining at a third grade level already, so maybe that could be another back up plan for me. You know, if the app developer thing doesn't work out.
See you on Skype,
Zelda
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Month 17
Dear Zayde,
It's been a big month. I've learned so much that I'm sure I won't be able to list all of my newfound knowledge and newly acquired skills. The following is a sample of lessons, in no particular order, that were chosen mostly due to Mommy's still-Swiss-cheese memory.
I learned to put on my own sneaker. No one is sure how I did this, but it involved going into a corner by myself, making a lot of noise, and emerging triumphantly a few minutes later. I learned to tell people I want to go for a walk outside by bringing them my hat and shoes. While on such walks, I've learned how to run into our neighbors' yards, which "aren't ours" and are therefore much more enticing. Some of those yards have flowers I enjoy touching and dogs that bark at me. I learned to bark back. (See below.)
I learned to sort objects by shape. Mommy gave me a pile of spheres (wooden balls) and cubes (wooden blocks), and showed me how to put each in a separate container. I caught on rather quickly, if I do say so myself. I'm not sure why we want to segregate the shapes. That is, I didn't think we were a discriminating family, but Mommy was really into the whole idea of "this goes here, and that goes there," so I humored her, as usual. She has been great about learning to get out the Cheerios when I bring her my sad, empty bowl, so I wanted to return the favor.
I learned how to help Mommy put away the groceries. I learned that if I poke a hole in one of the packages of chicken or steak, we have to eat that for dinner. I learned to fall asleep while riding on Mommy like a backpack when you and Bubbie showed us how to get to the grocery store from the boat. I learned that adults like to drink coffee in mugs that are "hot" and not safe to touch. I learned that Aunt Jill has forgotten what it's like to have toddlers around, which led to her leaving a glass of white wine on a low table, which led to my picking up said glass, which led to covering myself in said wine. I learned that bath water is not for drinking, and cups full of drinking water are not for washing my hands. You can see how these two concepts might be easily confused, right?
As you've heard, I can "woof woof" like a dog and "me-ow" like a cat. I can also "roar" like a lion and "quack quack" like a duck. I taught myself to wave to birds, both in real life and in books. I've learned that words can be used to identify objects and communicate my desires. So far, my parents have been able to figure out that I can say mama, da (dad), nana (banana or Grandma, depending on the situation), uh-oh, kah (car), ka (cat), dah (dog), wawa (water), ya (yes), dee-en (the end, as in what you say after reading a book) and the ever-useful NO. I still haven't said "hello" again since we were in Atlanta. I am most likely messing with my parents and/or waiting until I meet someone truly interesting and therefore worthy of such a well-pronounced greeting. I'm also capable of speaking in complex sentences, but no one seems to understand me, no matter how many times I repeat myself. Do you think they all have hearing problems?
This month I've learned to point to named body parts on myself and others. I know where all of the following can be found: head, hair, tummy, belly button, nose, ears, eyes, mouth, tongue, teeth, tushie, nipple, feet, toes, fingers, arms, legs, and hands. When reading a book with a grown-up, I can also identify such common objects as houses, chairs, trucks, beds, socks, and various animals.
I learned to kick a ball thanks to my "Uncle" Jack. I learned how to walk down the aisle (carrying my monkey, of course) at Danny and Yael's wedding, where I also learned to dance the hora with a bunch of Daddy's friends. I learned to turn a paper towel tube into a horn. Lego towers can be used, as well, but you don't get that same echo. I learned how to grab onto Mommy's knees in such a way that she cannot move in any direction. I like to employ that skill when she's making dinner. I learned that matzah is not only delicious but also the perfect snack if I want to leave a trail wherever I go. On the contrary, I learned that soap is not such a good snack, and taking a bite out of Mommy's bar soap results in a mouth full of yuck and a call to poison control.
My parents say that the best thing I've learned is how to give kisses and hugs when asked. I agree that it's an incredibly useful skill. One kiss from me and they'll agree to anything, even a cookie before dinner.
It seems like I'm learning something new every day, which I'm sure is related to the fact that I never stop moving, from the moment I get Mommy out of bed at 6:00 a.m. until the moment I curl up with my monkey and fall asleep at 7:30 p.m. The older I get, the more I realize how big and fascinating the world is, and the more I want to see, hear, and taste every bit of it. (Mostly taste.)
Your kinetic kid,
Zelda
It's been a big month. I've learned so much that I'm sure I won't be able to list all of my newfound knowledge and newly acquired skills. The following is a sample of lessons, in no particular order, that were chosen mostly due to Mommy's still-Swiss-cheese memory.
I learned to put on my own sneaker. No one is sure how I did this, but it involved going into a corner by myself, making a lot of noise, and emerging triumphantly a few minutes later. I learned to tell people I want to go for a walk outside by bringing them my hat and shoes. While on such walks, I've learned how to run into our neighbors' yards, which "aren't ours" and are therefore much more enticing. Some of those yards have flowers I enjoy touching and dogs that bark at me. I learned to bark back. (See below.)
I learned to sort objects by shape. Mommy gave me a pile of spheres (wooden balls) and cubes (wooden blocks), and showed me how to put each in a separate container. I caught on rather quickly, if I do say so myself. I'm not sure why we want to segregate the shapes. That is, I didn't think we were a discriminating family, but Mommy was really into the whole idea of "this goes here, and that goes there," so I humored her, as usual. She has been great about learning to get out the Cheerios when I bring her my sad, empty bowl, so I wanted to return the favor.
I learned how to help Mommy put away the groceries. I learned that if I poke a hole in one of the packages of chicken or steak, we have to eat that for dinner. I learned to fall asleep while riding on Mommy like a backpack when you and Bubbie showed us how to get to the grocery store from the boat. I learned that adults like to drink coffee in mugs that are "hot" and not safe to touch. I learned that Aunt Jill has forgotten what it's like to have toddlers around, which led to her leaving a glass of white wine on a low table, which led to my picking up said glass, which led to covering myself in said wine. I learned that bath water is not for drinking, and cups full of drinking water are not for washing my hands. You can see how these two concepts might be easily confused, right?
As you've heard, I can "woof woof" like a dog and "me-ow" like a cat. I can also "roar" like a lion and "quack quack" like a duck. I taught myself to wave to birds, both in real life and in books. I've learned that words can be used to identify objects and communicate my desires. So far, my parents have been able to figure out that I can say mama, da (dad), nana (banana or Grandma, depending on the situation), uh-oh, kah (car), ka (cat), dah (dog), wawa (water), ya (yes), dee-en (the end, as in what you say after reading a book) and the ever-useful NO. I still haven't said "hello" again since we were in Atlanta. I am most likely messing with my parents and/or waiting until I meet someone truly interesting and therefore worthy of such a well-pronounced greeting. I'm also capable of speaking in complex sentences, but no one seems to understand me, no matter how many times I repeat myself. Do you think they all have hearing problems?
This month I've learned to point to named body parts on myself and others. I know where all of the following can be found: head, hair, tummy, belly button, nose, ears, eyes, mouth, tongue, teeth, tushie, nipple, feet, toes, fingers, arms, legs, and hands. When reading a book with a grown-up, I can also identify such common objects as houses, chairs, trucks, beds, socks, and various animals.
I learned to kick a ball thanks to my "Uncle" Jack. I learned how to walk down the aisle (carrying my monkey, of course) at Danny and Yael's wedding, where I also learned to dance the hora with a bunch of Daddy's friends. I learned to turn a paper towel tube into a horn. Lego towers can be used, as well, but you don't get that same echo. I learned how to grab onto Mommy's knees in such a way that she cannot move in any direction. I like to employ that skill when she's making dinner. I learned that matzah is not only delicious but also the perfect snack if I want to leave a trail wherever I go. On the contrary, I learned that soap is not such a good snack, and taking a bite out of Mommy's bar soap results in a mouth full of yuck and a call to poison control.
My parents say that the best thing I've learned is how to give kisses and hugs when asked. I agree that it's an incredibly useful skill. One kiss from me and they'll agree to anything, even a cookie before dinner.
It seems like I'm learning something new every day, which I'm sure is related to the fact that I never stop moving, from the moment I get Mommy out of bed at 6:00 a.m. until the moment I curl up with my monkey and fall asleep at 7:30 p.m. The older I get, the more I realize how big and fascinating the world is, and the more I want to see, hear, and taste every bit of it. (Mostly taste.)
Your kinetic kid,
Zelda
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Month 16
Dear Zayde,
After a series of executive meetings, focus groups, and late night pow-wows, Mommy and I have decided to revamp this blog into a monthly event until the time when I am able to "play by myself," whatever that means. We are not changing the URL because we believe that there will indeed come a time in which Mommy will have an entire hour a week to devote to helping me write to you. That time might be when I start kindergarten.
We have a lot of catching up to do, so let's just jump right in...
This month I learned that walking offers certain advantages. First of all, I can keep my knees clean. Second - and perhaps most importantly - I can carry two things at a time. For example, I can hold my pink monkey in one hand and Daddy's keys in the other. With a purse thrown over my shoulder and an item in each hand, I'm just like Mommy, who's always lugging too much stuff around when we go out on our daily adventures. Do we really need that many diapers and wipes? And an extra outfit? And Benadryl? And all those credit cards? (As you know, I learned to unzip her bag and have become adept at emptying its contents any place I see fit.) Just last week I learned that I can carry my dirty diaper to the trash bin and throw it away. I also learned to throw away paper towels, tissues, and banana peels (which I learned are not for eating, just like an orange peel but unlike the skin of an apple or peach). It wasn't until I threw away my fork that I learned the trash bin is a one way situation. Once something goes in, it can't come back out.
On the topic of in versus out, I learned that walking outside is far superior to walking inside. Outside the house, I can walk on the grass. I know what your'e thinking, and it's true that I was once fearful of grass, but I have overcome my anxiety and embraced the beauty of crunching leaves underfoot. Now I prefer to trek across our lawn, our neighbors' lawns, and any other grass I encounter. Sidewalks are too easy. Give me the rugged terrain of a suburban swale any day. On our daily walks, I learned that when it's windy, the trees and bushes are extra friendly and love to wave at me. My parents are teaching me to be polite, so I always wave back. I learned that there's a black and white cat that roams around our neighborhood. One evening he showed up at our back door while we were eating dinner. I waved at him, but unlike the bushes, he didn't wave back. He ran away. (He's not the first cat to walk quickly away from me. I'm not sure why cats aren't more friendly.) I've seen squirrels outside, too, and they're exciting in a fleeting sort of way. Mommy caught a lizard on Savtah's patio and was excited to show it to me, but I found it to be less than interesting. At least now I know that Mommy likes small creatures with tails. That information might come in handy some day. Mommy and I do agree that flies are wretched creatures that do not belong in the house. I had a serious run-in with a fly this month, and upon learning that it could buzz by my face and then just land on my favorite window to taunt me, I had to sound the alarm. Mommy came to the rescue, but it took her a while to remove it from the house. That's when I learned that Mommy has lightning quick reflexes and is rather dangerous with a shoe.
This month I learned that everyone has a nose, two ears, two eyes, a mouth, hair, and a belly button, which my parents adorably refer to as a "bee-bo" thanks to a certain Sandra Boynton book. I learned that when someone asks me "where is your [previously identified body part]?" I am supposed to point to it. (This is also true for everyday objects such as lights, cars, mirrors, and pets. Yes, I consider pets to be moving objects until proven otherwise.) I learned that most people have lots of teeth in their mouths, but some of us only have a few teeth thus far. I learned that getting my top front teeth was far more excruciating than getting the two bottom teeth, and this does not give me much hope for what is to come. Mommy taught me that frozen apple juice on a stick makes for a nice distraction from the pain in my mouth. You know what else makes me feel better? Milk. Lots and lots of milk.
Speaking of milk, I have a sudden urge to yell at Mommy and make the sign for milk until she sits down in my favorite chair and gives me what I want. I've learned that persistent and clear communication go a long way in this household. I look forward to the day when I can verbally accost her until I get what I want.
Until next month,
Zelda
After a series of executive meetings, focus groups, and late night pow-wows, Mommy and I have decided to revamp this blog into a monthly event until the time when I am able to "play by myself," whatever that means. We are not changing the URL because we believe that there will indeed come a time in which Mommy will have an entire hour a week to devote to helping me write to you. That time might be when I start kindergarten.
We have a lot of catching up to do, so let's just jump right in...
This month I learned that walking offers certain advantages. First of all, I can keep my knees clean. Second - and perhaps most importantly - I can carry two things at a time. For example, I can hold my pink monkey in one hand and Daddy's keys in the other. With a purse thrown over my shoulder and an item in each hand, I'm just like Mommy, who's always lugging too much stuff around when we go out on our daily adventures. Do we really need that many diapers and wipes? And an extra outfit? And Benadryl? And all those credit cards? (As you know, I learned to unzip her bag and have become adept at emptying its contents any place I see fit.) Just last week I learned that I can carry my dirty diaper to the trash bin and throw it away. I also learned to throw away paper towels, tissues, and banana peels (which I learned are not for eating, just like an orange peel but unlike the skin of an apple or peach). It wasn't until I threw away my fork that I learned the trash bin is a one way situation. Once something goes in, it can't come back out.
On the topic of in versus out, I learned that walking outside is far superior to walking inside. Outside the house, I can walk on the grass. I know what your'e thinking, and it's true that I was once fearful of grass, but I have overcome my anxiety and embraced the beauty of crunching leaves underfoot. Now I prefer to trek across our lawn, our neighbors' lawns, and any other grass I encounter. Sidewalks are too easy. Give me the rugged terrain of a suburban swale any day. On our daily walks, I learned that when it's windy, the trees and bushes are extra friendly and love to wave at me. My parents are teaching me to be polite, so I always wave back. I learned that there's a black and white cat that roams around our neighborhood. One evening he showed up at our back door while we were eating dinner. I waved at him, but unlike the bushes, he didn't wave back. He ran away. (He's not the first cat to walk quickly away from me. I'm not sure why cats aren't more friendly.) I've seen squirrels outside, too, and they're exciting in a fleeting sort of way. Mommy caught a lizard on Savtah's patio and was excited to show it to me, but I found it to be less than interesting. At least now I know that Mommy likes small creatures with tails. That information might come in handy some day. Mommy and I do agree that flies are wretched creatures that do not belong in the house. I had a serious run-in with a fly this month, and upon learning that it could buzz by my face and then just land on my favorite window to taunt me, I had to sound the alarm. Mommy came to the rescue, but it took her a while to remove it from the house. That's when I learned that Mommy has lightning quick reflexes and is rather dangerous with a shoe.
This month I learned that everyone has a nose, two ears, two eyes, a mouth, hair, and a belly button, which my parents adorably refer to as a "bee-bo" thanks to a certain Sandra Boynton book. I learned that when someone asks me "where is your [previously identified body part]?" I am supposed to point to it. (This is also true for everyday objects such as lights, cars, mirrors, and pets. Yes, I consider pets to be moving objects until proven otherwise.) I learned that most people have lots of teeth in their mouths, but some of us only have a few teeth thus far. I learned that getting my top front teeth was far more excruciating than getting the two bottom teeth, and this does not give me much hope for what is to come. Mommy taught me that frozen apple juice on a stick makes for a nice distraction from the pain in my mouth. You know what else makes me feel better? Milk. Lots and lots of milk.
Speaking of milk, I have a sudden urge to yell at Mommy and make the sign for milk until she sits down in my favorite chair and gives me what I want. I've learned that persistent and clear communication go a long way in this household. I look forward to the day when I can verbally accost her until I get what I want.
Until next month,
Zelda
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Year 2: Week 13
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that there is a hotel so close to our house that we don't need to take an airplane to get to it. On Sunday, Mommy brought me to the hotel, where Daddy was waiting for us in one of the rooms. From the balcony, I could see an endless view of blue. The sun was shining, and the breeze was delightful. We ate breakfast in the room, and then we headed outside to play on the beach. I learned that big kids are allowed to run on the beach. They can carry buckets to the shoreline and gather water for the sake of building structures out of sand. (I get the playing with water part, but I don't see why someone would build something when destroying is so much more fun.)
The thing I don't quite understand is why Daddy was in the hotel. I thought people stayed in hotels when they were far away from home and needed a place to sleep. Why would he be in a hotel room just for breakfast? Now that I think about it, that morning was strange for another reason. When I woke up, it was Grandma who picked me up from my crib, not Mommy. After I changed into my daytime clothes and had a snack, Mommy joined us and then took me to the hotel. I wonder why she didn't wake up when I did. Maybe she was really tired. Or maybe she was taking a long shower. I know she was at home because we had dinner together the previous evening, and we did our usual bedtime routine together (bath, pajamas, books, milk, and bed). I can't imagine why she wouldn't have heard me get up the next morning...or why Grandma was in our house so early...unless...WAIT A SECOND. Did Mommy not sleep at home? Did she and Daddy sleep at the hotel? Why on Earth would they do that? They have a bed here. Why would they need to sleep somewhere else? Somewhere away from me? That doesn't make any sense. I must be missing some important detail. This situation requires additional investigation.
For the last 15 months, most of what I've shared with you are good things that I've learned. The truth is that I've encountered many unpleasant facts about this great big world, but I didn't want to burden you. Now that I'm a toddler, I understand that nobody's life is nothing-but-roses, so I think it's time to share with you the things I find most annoying. Here is a short but representative list.
1. Mommy insists on taking a shower EVERY day.
2. Grandma hasn't let me touch her phone since the day I accidentally called 911.
3. All the best cabinets are locked; I can only get into the boring ones.
4. Sometimes Mommy stops her car amid other parked cars and doesn't move for entire minutes.
5. I can't reach doorknobs.
6. Now that I weigh more than 20 pounds, Mommy no longer wants to hold me all day long.
7. Someone keeps putting the shoes back into the shoe bin, despite all my hard work spreading them out onto the floor each day.
Keeping score,
Zelda
This week I learned that there is a hotel so close to our house that we don't need to take an airplane to get to it. On Sunday, Mommy brought me to the hotel, where Daddy was waiting for us in one of the rooms. From the balcony, I could see an endless view of blue. The sun was shining, and the breeze was delightful. We ate breakfast in the room, and then we headed outside to play on the beach. I learned that big kids are allowed to run on the beach. They can carry buckets to the shoreline and gather water for the sake of building structures out of sand. (I get the playing with water part, but I don't see why someone would build something when destroying is so much more fun.)
The thing I don't quite understand is why Daddy was in the hotel. I thought people stayed in hotels when they were far away from home and needed a place to sleep. Why would he be in a hotel room just for breakfast? Now that I think about it, that morning was strange for another reason. When I woke up, it was Grandma who picked me up from my crib, not Mommy. After I changed into my daytime clothes and had a snack, Mommy joined us and then took me to the hotel. I wonder why she didn't wake up when I did. Maybe she was really tired. Or maybe she was taking a long shower. I know she was at home because we had dinner together the previous evening, and we did our usual bedtime routine together (bath, pajamas, books, milk, and bed). I can't imagine why she wouldn't have heard me get up the next morning...or why Grandma was in our house so early...unless...WAIT A SECOND. Did Mommy not sleep at home? Did she and Daddy sleep at the hotel? Why on Earth would they do that? They have a bed here. Why would they need to sleep somewhere else? Somewhere away from me? That doesn't make any sense. I must be missing some important detail. This situation requires additional investigation.
For the last 15 months, most of what I've shared with you are good things that I've learned. The truth is that I've encountered many unpleasant facts about this great big world, but I didn't want to burden you. Now that I'm a toddler, I understand that nobody's life is nothing-but-roses, so I think it's time to share with you the things I find most annoying. Here is a short but representative list.
1. Mommy insists on taking a shower EVERY day.
2. Grandma hasn't let me touch her phone since the day I accidentally called 911.
3. All the best cabinets are locked; I can only get into the boring ones.
4. Sometimes Mommy stops her car amid other parked cars and doesn't move for entire minutes.
5. I can't reach doorknobs.
6. Now that I weigh more than 20 pounds, Mommy no longer wants to hold me all day long.
7. Someone keeps putting the shoes back into the shoe bin, despite all my hard work spreading them out onto the floor each day.
Keeping score,
Zelda
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Year 2: Week 12
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that it is, indeed, possible for me to sleep from 7:30 p.m. until 7:00 a.m. without waking up Mommy for food, snuggles, or play time. Sure, I miss the midnight festivities, but to tell you the truth, it was getting hard to keep the party going when my parents seemed so unenthusiastic about the whole thing. Their boring refrain, "aren't you tired?" put a damper on my dancing mood, so it's just as well that I've learned to curl up with my pink monkey each evening and drift off to dreamland, where the DJ keeps the music playing all night long.
As an unrelated observation, I also learned that those dark circles under Mommy's eyes weren't permanent features.
This week I also learned that steak and salmon are delicious, despite my earlier belief that they were yucky and only good as projectiles. All that sleeping has made me extremely hungry, and this week I learned the phrase "eating like a horse." Do horses like steak?
I've learned this week that sleeping, eating, and playing are best accomplished when practiced according to some sort of schedule. Mommy had us on a loose routine for months while I decided how many naps was optimal and when I wanted to go to bed for the night, but now that I've got her locked into a real schedule, I find that she is more predictable, happier, and more likely to rise and shine in the morning, rather than rise and mope. The new and improved Mommy still won't let me touch the trash can, diaper pail, or toilet, but I'm working on a plan of action. All of those things are begging to be opened and emptied, and I'm just the girl for the job.
On the clock,
Zelda
This week I learned that it is, indeed, possible for me to sleep from 7:30 p.m. until 7:00 a.m. without waking up Mommy for food, snuggles, or play time. Sure, I miss the midnight festivities, but to tell you the truth, it was getting hard to keep the party going when my parents seemed so unenthusiastic about the whole thing. Their boring refrain, "aren't you tired?" put a damper on my dancing mood, so it's just as well that I've learned to curl up with my pink monkey each evening and drift off to dreamland, where the DJ keeps the music playing all night long.
As an unrelated observation, I also learned that those dark circles under Mommy's eyes weren't permanent features.
This week I also learned that steak and salmon are delicious, despite my earlier belief that they were yucky and only good as projectiles. All that sleeping has made me extremely hungry, and this week I learned the phrase "eating like a horse." Do horses like steak?
I've learned this week that sleeping, eating, and playing are best accomplished when practiced according to some sort of schedule. Mommy had us on a loose routine for months while I decided how many naps was optimal and when I wanted to go to bed for the night, but now that I've got her locked into a real schedule, I find that she is more predictable, happier, and more likely to rise and shine in the morning, rather than rise and mope. The new and improved Mommy still won't let me touch the trash can, diaper pail, or toilet, but I'm working on a plan of action. All of those things are begging to be opened and emptied, and I'm just the girl for the job.
On the clock,
Zelda
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Year 2: Week 11
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that I get to attend another wedding this spring. Daddy has been friends with Danny since they were too young to drive cars, and now Danny is getting married to a very pretty and sweet lady named Yael. I look forward to wearing my big girl shoes and watching Mommy get choked up again at how "romantic" everything is. I'm also looking forward to the dancing Chinese dragons.
Speaking of late night dance parties, I have started a new tradition in our own home. It's called "let's pretend we're still at Kanchan's wedding and dance and play all night." In unrelated news, Mommy says she's getting serious about putting me to bed earlier next week, but we shall see who is more stubborn.
This week I continue to debate internally the great philosophical conundrum, "to walk or not to walk." I have mastered the ability to toddle down the hallway with my hand along the wall; I love shuffle through the house while pushing my musical train engine until I hit a wall; and I can take a stroll holding onto my parents' hands. I even proved my ability to advance on my enemy during my first ever sword fight, thanks to Mommy's friend April, who held her own until that last parry and thrust. Why, then, do I still refuse to take more than a few independent steps at any given time? Ah, that is one of the great mysteries of life, and I cannot begin to offer an answer. Do any of us really know ourselves so well? I think not.
(To make matters a little more interesting, I take independent steps only in prime numbers, usually 5 or 7. I can't figure out what comes after 7 because I only have 10 fingers. Perhaps once I figure out how to count a little higher, I'll be more willing to walk a mile in Daddy's shoes. have I mentioned how much I love to put on Daddy's shoes?)
Mommy says that I've been focusing so much on what I've learned recently about the world that I haven't mentioned all my new skills. Apparently I'm doing some really "adorable" things that should be documented for posterity. Here's a short list for your enjoyment.
This week I learned that I get to attend another wedding this spring. Daddy has been friends with Danny since they were too young to drive cars, and now Danny is getting married to a very pretty and sweet lady named Yael. I look forward to wearing my big girl shoes and watching Mommy get choked up again at how "romantic" everything is. I'm also looking forward to the dancing Chinese dragons.
Speaking of late night dance parties, I have started a new tradition in our own home. It's called "let's pretend we're still at Kanchan's wedding and dance and play all night." In unrelated news, Mommy says she's getting serious about putting me to bed earlier next week, but we shall see who is more stubborn.
This week I continue to debate internally the great philosophical conundrum, "to walk or not to walk." I have mastered the ability to toddle down the hallway with my hand along the wall; I love shuffle through the house while pushing my musical train engine until I hit a wall; and I can take a stroll holding onto my parents' hands. I even proved my ability to advance on my enemy during my first ever sword fight, thanks to Mommy's friend April, who held her own until that last parry and thrust. Why, then, do I still refuse to take more than a few independent steps at any given time? Ah, that is one of the great mysteries of life, and I cannot begin to offer an answer. Do any of us really know ourselves so well? I think not.
(To make matters a little more interesting, I take independent steps only in prime numbers, usually 5 or 7. I can't figure out what comes after 7 because I only have 10 fingers. Perhaps once I figure out how to count a little higher, I'll be more willing to walk a mile in Daddy's shoes. have I mentioned how much I love to put on Daddy's shoes?)
Mommy says that I've been focusing so much on what I've learned recently about the world that I haven't mentioned all my new skills. Apparently I'm doing some really "adorable" things that should be documented for posterity. Here's a short list for your enjoyment.
- Saying "ahh" after chugging water from my sippy cup.
- Pointing to everything and asking "wuzz-a" (as in, "what's that?") and "ma" (which is how you say "what" in Hebrew, despite my not hearing much Hebrew).
- Raising my arms when someones says "hands up!"
- Knocking on doors, walls, tables, people, etc.
- Opening and closing doors, particularly when Mommy is on the other side.
- Pointing to my nose (and sometimes my cheek or ear) when someone asks where my nose is. (I really don't understand why they can't see my nose. Is it invisible?)
- Shaking the object I'm holding when Mommy calls out, "shake it!"
In prime form,
Zelda
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Year 2: Week 10
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that when two people love each other very much, they gather all their family members and friends together in a cold place called Atlanta, where everyone dresses in colorful outfits and spends three days eating, dancing, clapping, and smiling. This is what it means to "get married." I learned that you and Bubbie like to travel by airplane, just like Mommy and Daddy. On this trip, I learned that the people flying the plane are called the pilot and copilot, and they wear shirts with buttons and ties, just like Daddy does when he goes to work, but something tells me that Daddy's job isn't as exciting as flying an airplane. Otherwise, he'd be more enthusiastic about leaving the house every morning.
When we arrived in Atlanta, I learned that winter north of Florida means there's snow on the ground, but I didn't get to touch it because it melted before we had time to play outside. (The next morning, I learned that taking a long walk in the cold while attached to Mommy is the perfect recipe for a serious nap.) In the afternoon, I took a lovely nap on Daddy while Mommy and Bubbie drank tea and had their hands painted with henna. I learned that all the ladies at the wedding had beautiful designs on their hands, but none more beautiful than the bride. (I've known the bride and groom since I was little. Their names are Kanchan and Navin, and they are happy people who love babies. I'm hoping that they make some friends for me very soon.) That night, we went to a super fun dance party called a Sangeet. I learned that the Chinese people have their own New Year, just like we do, but theirs involves dragons dancing to the rhythm of drums, which is much more entertaining than apples and honey. I learned that night about loud music and neon lights, neither of which I can stand for more than 45 minutes. The room was full of so many colors and lights that I thought perhaps a rainbow had exploded, but I was too distracted by Mommy's gold bangles to investigate. I learned soon thereafter that Bubbie knows the secret to getting me to sleep, and a few hours later, I got to spend the rest of the night in a big hotel bed with Mommy and Daddy. (Having learned how wonderful it is to snuggle with them, since then I've made it known that I'd prefer to spend every night in their bed. We are currently negotiating the details of this arrangement.)
On Saturday, I learned that Hindu weddings are elaborate and sparkly. They're also really long, but that's okay because it gave me ample time to meet some adorable babies and climb up and down a grand staircase just outside the hall in which everyone was watching the ceremony. Kanchan and Navin walked in circles together, which Mommy says is a metaphor for being married. She really does think she's hilarious.
Later that night, around 9:00 p.m., I learned that I have a limit as to how much partying I can handle in one weekend. Within five minutes of walking into the cocktail hour with Mommy and Daddy, I was compelled to share with all the wedding guests my fatigue and dislike of being dressed up and paraded around like a happily trained monkey. That's when I learned that Daddy is happy to "take one for the team" when he hauled my crying tushie upstairs to our room. We watched Syracuse beat Duke and played with Mommy's high heels before emptying the contents of all our suitcases. Twice. I have the best Daddy.
This week's letter is part "what I learned" and part "thank you." You and Bubbie were very kind to join us on the trip to Kanchan's wedding, and Mommy keeps saying that she wouldn't have survived without you there. (I can't imagine she's referring to me in any way with this statement, so I can only assume she is talking about how needy Daddy is when traveling.) In any case, I want to thank you both. Thank you for distracting me on the airplane so I didn't get too stir crazy at 30,000 feet. Thank you for letting me play with the velcro on your shoes. Thank you for putting me to bed when I'd had enough partying. Thank you for taking pictures of Mommy and me when we were all dressed up and looking our best. Thank you for whisking me away from brunch on Sunday morning so that Mommy "could just enjoy a cup of coffee and a plate of hot eggs, for crying out loud." In short, thank you for making what could have been an arduous ordeal a truly fun and memorable weekend.
Pyāra (I think that means love in Hindi.),
Zelda
This week I learned that when two people love each other very much, they gather all their family members and friends together in a cold place called Atlanta, where everyone dresses in colorful outfits and spends three days eating, dancing, clapping, and smiling. This is what it means to "get married." I learned that you and Bubbie like to travel by airplane, just like Mommy and Daddy. On this trip, I learned that the people flying the plane are called the pilot and copilot, and they wear shirts with buttons and ties, just like Daddy does when he goes to work, but something tells me that Daddy's job isn't as exciting as flying an airplane. Otherwise, he'd be more enthusiastic about leaving the house every morning.
When we arrived in Atlanta, I learned that winter north of Florida means there's snow on the ground, but I didn't get to touch it because it melted before we had time to play outside. (The next morning, I learned that taking a long walk in the cold while attached to Mommy is the perfect recipe for a serious nap.) In the afternoon, I took a lovely nap on Daddy while Mommy and Bubbie drank tea and had their hands painted with henna. I learned that all the ladies at the wedding had beautiful designs on their hands, but none more beautiful than the bride. (I've known the bride and groom since I was little. Their names are Kanchan and Navin, and they are happy people who love babies. I'm hoping that they make some friends for me very soon.) That night, we went to a super fun dance party called a Sangeet. I learned that the Chinese people have their own New Year, just like we do, but theirs involves dragons dancing to the rhythm of drums, which is much more entertaining than apples and honey. I learned that night about loud music and neon lights, neither of which I can stand for more than 45 minutes. The room was full of so many colors and lights that I thought perhaps a rainbow had exploded, but I was too distracted by Mommy's gold bangles to investigate. I learned soon thereafter that Bubbie knows the secret to getting me to sleep, and a few hours later, I got to spend the rest of the night in a big hotel bed with Mommy and Daddy. (Having learned how wonderful it is to snuggle with them, since then I've made it known that I'd prefer to spend every night in their bed. We are currently negotiating the details of this arrangement.)
On Saturday, I learned that Hindu weddings are elaborate and sparkly. They're also really long, but that's okay because it gave me ample time to meet some adorable babies and climb up and down a grand staircase just outside the hall in which everyone was watching the ceremony. Kanchan and Navin walked in circles together, which Mommy says is a metaphor for being married. She really does think she's hilarious.
Later that night, around 9:00 p.m., I learned that I have a limit as to how much partying I can handle in one weekend. Within five minutes of walking into the cocktail hour with Mommy and Daddy, I was compelled to share with all the wedding guests my fatigue and dislike of being dressed up and paraded around like a happily trained monkey. That's when I learned that Daddy is happy to "take one for the team" when he hauled my crying tushie upstairs to our room. We watched Syracuse beat Duke and played with Mommy's high heels before emptying the contents of all our suitcases. Twice. I have the best Daddy.
This week's letter is part "what I learned" and part "thank you." You and Bubbie were very kind to join us on the trip to Kanchan's wedding, and Mommy keeps saying that she wouldn't have survived without you there. (I can't imagine she's referring to me in any way with this statement, so I can only assume she is talking about how needy Daddy is when traveling.) In any case, I want to thank you both. Thank you for distracting me on the airplane so I didn't get too stir crazy at 30,000 feet. Thank you for letting me play with the velcro on your shoes. Thank you for putting me to bed when I'd had enough partying. Thank you for taking pictures of Mommy and me when we were all dressed up and looking our best. Thank you for whisking me away from brunch on Sunday morning so that Mommy "could just enjoy a cup of coffee and a plate of hot eggs, for crying out loud." In short, thank you for making what could have been an arduous ordeal a truly fun and memorable weekend.
Pyāra (I think that means love in Hindi.),
Zelda
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Year 2: Week 9
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that it's impossible to visit my allergist without getting poked. Last time, I was bombarded with a slew of tiny pokes. This time I just got one poke, but it was in the arm, and you know how I feel about people holding down my arms. Mommy explained that I was getting a triple vaccination called the MMR, which is necessary for staying healthy and not getting some pretty horrible diseases that your generation often couldn't avoid. Apparently, there are parents who don't want to get their kids this particular vaccine (as well as many others), and this puts all us yet-to-be-vaccinated kids at risk for contracting these once-almost-eradicated viruses. From this experience, I learned that being well-intentioned doesn't make a parent well-informed, and chances are that Mommy won't send me to a preschool that doesn't mandate compliance with vaccination schedules. I had to go to the allergist's office for this particular vaccine because my pediatrician's office won't give it to kids with a egg allergy, even though there's no risk of a reaction. It's their "policy," and they wouldn't budge, even after Mommy explained that she'd done extensive research with the CDC and through her online course with Dr. Paul Offit, who is a vaccine expert and works at the school that you and Mommy attended. I guess that means that this week I learned that sometimes doctors are wrong. I'm going to put that one in my file of "things to remember for the future" because it sounds important.
The good thing I learned at the allergist's office is that I must've done really well on the blood work test because my "numbers look promising," and within the next year I get to take another exam called the "baked goods test." It involves Mommy baking a cake and then bringing it to the allergist's office, where we have some sort of cake-eating party for a few hours. Count me in!
In other, non-medical news, I've learned to follow simple directions. I can "give" a toy to someone (if I feel like it); I can "shake it" when I'm holding a toy and Mommy wants me to make a little more noise; and I can put my "hands up" as long as others in the room are doing the same so that I don't look like a moron waving my arms all by myself. What I do not do, under any circumstances, is walk on command or "come here." I am not a dog: I shall not respond to commands meant for pets. My parents haven't learned that lesson yet, but they will soon enough.
Sweeter than an egg and dairy free cake,
Zelda
This week I learned that it's impossible to visit my allergist without getting poked. Last time, I was bombarded with a slew of tiny pokes. This time I just got one poke, but it was in the arm, and you know how I feel about people holding down my arms. Mommy explained that I was getting a triple vaccination called the MMR, which is necessary for staying healthy and not getting some pretty horrible diseases that your generation often couldn't avoid. Apparently, there are parents who don't want to get their kids this particular vaccine (as well as many others), and this puts all us yet-to-be-vaccinated kids at risk for contracting these once-almost-eradicated viruses. From this experience, I learned that being well-intentioned doesn't make a parent well-informed, and chances are that Mommy won't send me to a preschool that doesn't mandate compliance with vaccination schedules. I had to go to the allergist's office for this particular vaccine because my pediatrician's office won't give it to kids with a egg allergy, even though there's no risk of a reaction. It's their "policy," and they wouldn't budge, even after Mommy explained that she'd done extensive research with the CDC and through her online course with Dr. Paul Offit, who is a vaccine expert and works at the school that you and Mommy attended. I guess that means that this week I learned that sometimes doctors are wrong. I'm going to put that one in my file of "things to remember for the future" because it sounds important.
The good thing I learned at the allergist's office is that I must've done really well on the blood work test because my "numbers look promising," and within the next year I get to take another exam called the "baked goods test." It involves Mommy baking a cake and then bringing it to the allergist's office, where we have some sort of cake-eating party for a few hours. Count me in!
In other, non-medical news, I've learned to follow simple directions. I can "give" a toy to someone (if I feel like it); I can "shake it" when I'm holding a toy and Mommy wants me to make a little more noise; and I can put my "hands up" as long as others in the room are doing the same so that I don't look like a moron waving my arms all by myself. What I do not do, under any circumstances, is walk on command or "come here." I am not a dog: I shall not respond to commands meant for pets. My parents haven't learned that lesson yet, but they will soon enough.
Sweeter than an egg and dairy free cake,
Zelda
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Year 2: Week 8
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that hands are for holding, particularly when it's time to get up and walk.
I've been holding onto furniture and walls for the last few weeks as I teetered around the house. In all honesty, balance is not my forte, but I'm getting the hang of shifting my weight from side to side and stomping down on the ground with each foot in turn. If Rome wasn't built in a day, I don't see how a small person like myself could learn to walk within 24 hours.
This repetition of controlled falling seemed at first like a fun distraction when I had nothing better to do and didn't need to get anywhere. Crawling has been a convenient and reliable form of locomotion for months, and I didn't see the point of changing my mode of transportation just because everyone around me is obsessed with my walking.
But this week I learned that holding onto someone's hands gives me the freedom to move away from the furniture, away from the walls, and to cross a room at an astounding speed. Now I know why everyone walks: it's exhilarating! Walking with someone is a joyous endeavor; we get to stroll around the house and the backyard, hand in hand, enjoying the scenery from the improved vantage point of two and a half feet above the ground. A gal could get used to this.
On a most likely unrelated note, I learned this week that Mommy has been securing furniture to the walls and locking heretofore easily explorable cabinets and drawers. Is she preparing for an earthquake? A hurricane? I can't imagine why she would need to batten down the hatches, so to speak, unless she were expecting a major upheaval. Should I be worried?
Handily,
Zelda
This week I learned that hands are for holding, particularly when it's time to get up and walk.
I've been holding onto furniture and walls for the last few weeks as I teetered around the house. In all honesty, balance is not my forte, but I'm getting the hang of shifting my weight from side to side and stomping down on the ground with each foot in turn. If Rome wasn't built in a day, I don't see how a small person like myself could learn to walk within 24 hours.
This repetition of controlled falling seemed at first like a fun distraction when I had nothing better to do and didn't need to get anywhere. Crawling has been a convenient and reliable form of locomotion for months, and I didn't see the point of changing my mode of transportation just because everyone around me is obsessed with my walking.
But this week I learned that holding onto someone's hands gives me the freedom to move away from the furniture, away from the walls, and to cross a room at an astounding speed. Now I know why everyone walks: it's exhilarating! Walking with someone is a joyous endeavor; we get to stroll around the house and the backyard, hand in hand, enjoying the scenery from the improved vantage point of two and a half feet above the ground. A gal could get used to this.
On a most likely unrelated note, I learned this week that Mommy has been securing furniture to the walls and locking heretofore easily explorable cabinets and drawers. Is she preparing for an earthquake? A hurricane? I can't imagine why she would need to batten down the hatches, so to speak, unless she were expecting a major upheaval. Should I be worried?
Handily,
Zelda
Year 2: Week 7
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned that everyone can get sick at the same time. First, Daddy was sick. His head hurt, and his nose was stuffy, and his throat felt like fire. Then Grandma got sick. Then I got sick. Then Mommy got sick. It was a bonding experience for Mommy and me because we were stuck at home together, all by ourselves, with nothing but tissues and steamy showers and Sesame Street to keep us company. I learned that Mommy isn't much fun when she's sick, and one day she was so tired that Daddy stayed home from work on a week day, which I hadn't known was possible.
This week I also learned that having a cold makes you hot, even when the temperature outside is frigid. I learned that we've been affected by something called a "polar vortex," which has made me both excited and worried about possible giant white bears in our backyard. Luckily, we live far south of anything resembling "real" winter, so the extent of our winter wonderland is the opportunity to wear our most adorable sweaters and socks.
This week I learned that the best medicine is rest, so I'm going to cut this short and take an extra nap today. That way, I can stay up nice and late and play with my parents until we all pass out sometime near dawn.
Ahem,
Zelda
This week I learned that everyone can get sick at the same time. First, Daddy was sick. His head hurt, and his nose was stuffy, and his throat felt like fire. Then Grandma got sick. Then I got sick. Then Mommy got sick. It was a bonding experience for Mommy and me because we were stuck at home together, all by ourselves, with nothing but tissues and steamy showers and Sesame Street to keep us company. I learned that Mommy isn't much fun when she's sick, and one day she was so tired that Daddy stayed home from work on a week day, which I hadn't known was possible.
This week I also learned that having a cold makes you hot, even when the temperature outside is frigid. I learned that we've been affected by something called a "polar vortex," which has made me both excited and worried about possible giant white bears in our backyard. Luckily, we live far south of anything resembling "real" winter, so the extent of our winter wonderland is the opportunity to wear our most adorable sweaters and socks.
This week I learned that the best medicine is rest, so I'm going to cut this short and take an extra nap today. That way, I can stay up nice and late and play with my parents until we all pass out sometime near dawn.
Ahem,
Zelda
Monday, January 6, 2014
Year 2: Week 6
Dear Zayde,
This week I learned how to put those colored rings on the post. For months, I've been taking the rings off the post, and the game seemed somewhat pointless to me. Mommy didn't seem thrilled to have the job of putting the rings back on the post when I was done with my part, and so it never occurred to me that perhaps I was missing half of the fun. This week, in search of new forms of entertainment, I decided to reverse roles, and I tried my luck at stacking. It was a huge success, and now I enjoy the entire process of building up and breaking down. I'm wondering if maybe those Legos have similar properties. I'm awfully good at tearing down Daddy's buildings. Maybe I'll join him in his constructing some day so that he can knock down what I've built. Haha. Just kidding. That would be ridiculous.
This week I learned how to put those colored rings on the post. For months, I've been taking the rings off the post, and the game seemed somewhat pointless to me. Mommy didn't seem thrilled to have the job of putting the rings back on the post when I was done with my part, and so it never occurred to me that perhaps I was missing half of the fun. This week, in search of new forms of entertainment, I decided to reverse roles, and I tried my luck at stacking. It was a huge success, and now I enjoy the entire process of building up and breaking down. I'm wondering if maybe those Legos have similar properties. I'm awfully good at tearing down Daddy's buildings. Maybe I'll join him in his constructing some day so that he can knock down what I've built. Haha. Just kidding. That would be ridiculous.
This week I learned how to stand up without the aid of a piece of furniture or a helpful adult. I also learned to humor the masses with an occasional two-step maneuver, which lets everyone know that I can walk, and the fact that I don't take a larger number of consecutive steps is merely a personal choice and beyond the control of meddling parents. Every time I take those two steps, Mommy thinks it means I will walk on my own any day now. Excuse me while I laugh hard enough to necessitate a new diaper.
This week I learned that forks can be useful for getting food into my mouth, but they're still not as convenient or efficient as my fingers.
This week I learned that you are a business man, and I'd like to propose some new product ideas. The baby toy market is a multi-billion dollar industry, and there are indeed countless versions of (nearly) every imaginable item, from the tried and true blocks to the new-fangled "baby iPhones" full of bells and whistles. I'm pretty sure that it's adults who are making these toys, and I'm also fairly certain that they're not doing enough market research because they're missing out on what a toddler really wants. Here are my ideas for some new products.
2014 Baby Toy Ideas
1. Ice
What every toddler wants is easy access to the magical bucket inside the freezer that makes ice cubes. The sensation of stirring the ice around the bucket until my hand goes numb never gets old, but I am limited in my ice-play to the times when Mommy has to get something out of the freezer. What I need - what all one year olds need - is a sort of kid-door (not unlike a doggy door) that would allow for easy entry into the freezer. Then I can pretend it's winter any time of the year.
2. Cords
I've noticed a lot of play phones and play laptops on the market, but where are the play cords? How are we supposed to charge our electronics? Furthermore, a cord in and of itself is a constant source of entertainment. It bends. It winds. It has two ends that taste of metal and other forbidden flavors. I think the important part of this toy would be the instructions, wherein we explain to parents that they should plug the cord into a wall socket and let the toddler remove it at her leisure. What we're selling here isn't just a product; it's an experience.
4. Endless Toilet Paper Rolls
The fun is in unwinding the roll, and once that's done, all you have left is a giant pile of thin white paper. Sure, everyone likes to rip up paper, but that activity gets old after a few minutes. What we need is a perpetually unrolling toilet paper machine. I'm telling you, it would sell like hot cakes, whatever those are.
As you can see, I've been thinking quite a bit about these new toys, and I'd be happy to discuss each with you. If you like what you see, we can set up a meeting some time this week at the top of your stairs.
Diversifying,
Zelda
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