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
Thursday, February 27, 2014
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
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