Oblivious

See that blob of schmutz on my shirt? I have no idea how it got there. That's the beauty of being a baby: don't know, don't care.

Derby Day

So... Mommy and Daddy took me to a "Kentucky Derby" party this past weekend where everyone stared at the television while a bunch of horses (they say NEIGH) ran around a track. I guess the idea was to see which horse was the fastest. Still, I didn't really get it. It was over so quickly, and what was with the flower in your hair, Mommy, and why wouldn't you let me pull it out? The only okay part of the whole afternoon was playing in the backyard with bubbles while Mommy and Daddy sipped at glasses full of brownish water, mint leaves, and ice. They seemed really happy when we left. Glad someone had a good time.

Mommy was in Alaska this weekend, so Daddy took me up to Madison to hang with Auntie Sarah and Uncle Matt and Auntie Katie and Grandpa Ray (a.k.a. Gamma Ray) and my cousins Kate and Siri. (That's Siri, not Suri. Siri is the Norwegian nickname for Sigrid. Suri is some weird thing Scientologists call their kids.) We had so much fun! There was actually a horse in the house. Its name was Georgia and it slept in the bathtub and left huge clots of golden fur in the corners. Since I'm still eating whatever I find on the floor, I sampled some. Tasted like dog. Oh--also, I had fun sticking my finger in an ant hill and eating the grit. Just like Fun Dip!

Eat My Dust

I'm walking. I'm walking! Hahahahahaha!

Okay, so I'm not "proficient" or "competent" or even "steady," but so what? Use whatever adverbs you want: tentatively, awkwardly, drunkenly -- it's still walking, and I'M the one doing it. Ha-HA!

When do I get my motorcycle?

Movin' on Up

Well, everyone, it's finally happened: I've graduated to size 4 Pampers Cruisers. The 3s were working fine, but then I started leaking at night. Not fun. My mom has no idea how such a teeny body can hold--and evacuate--so much pee and poop. Such is the miracle of me. Speaking of miracles, I've recently learned to say the word "baby." And "star" (which I'm saying in the picture above). And "grapes," which I demand at every meal. Only the word doesn't sound like "grapes," it sounds like "psss." No matter, Mom understands. As long as she keeps the grapes coming and outfits me in size 4s, we'll be on good terms.

Born to Be Wild

The weather's been so nice lately, I finally understand what all this "Spring" fuss is about. What hair I have feels wonderful whipped about by the wind. Does Illinois have a helmet law? If so, when I grow up I'm buying a motorcycle and moving to a state that doesn't.

The Girl in the Mirror

Okay, ever since I was little I've had this friend. My mom calls her The Girl in the Mirror. She does everything I do, which tests my patience at times (c'mon, show some creativity), but overall she's a pleasant sort and I like her. Yesterday I was hanging out with her in the big mirror, the one in Mommy and Daddy's room that rests on the floor and leans up against the wall. We were in the middle of exchanging smiles when it occurred to me that I might be able to meet her in the flesh by peeking behind the mirror. So I leaned over and looked, but there was no one there. Puzzle. I checked the front again, and there she was as usual, which made me laugh, which made her laugh (she's easily influenced), so I quickly peeked behind the mirror again. Nothing. The Girl in the Mirror is wily, but I'll catch up with her yet--just watch me.