Picture This

So much has happened in the last few months. People visited, we traveled. I had a birthday party with a real face-painting lady, just like in my Wheels on the Bus book, and another MRI. Abby learned to roll over, sit up, crawl, cruise, climb stairs, eat pizza and apples and ice cream, and shriek. Boy can she shriek. I learned to open doors, push the stroller, ride a balance bike, and keep my hair away from Abby.

I would wear my fingers down to stubs if I tried to write about it all now, so I'll point you to Abby's and my monthly photo collections, where you can make up your own witty captions and pretend I wrote them.

A New Friend

In the book I'm a Big Sister, book-Sara has a bunny she carries around everywhere. I'm not about to let some book-kid one-up me like that, so I laid claim to a bunny that appeared out of nowhere around the time Abby showed up. The reassuring rattle of my new friend Nunny's head reminds me of Dad as I drift off to sleep.

Sleeping Comportment

I regularly sleep three, four, sometimes even five hours in a row at the beginning of the night. Too bad night starts at 8 PM. I went over six hours once last week, but the following night I ate every two hours just to keep Mom off balance. I'll be so disappointed when I'm too old to be this fickle. Then again, Sadie still wakes up four or five times a night sometimes, so I have a while.

Babies are the new ducks

Waterfowl are so last year. Everyone who's anyone now demands baby movies. There's a really cute one whose oeuvre I revisit every day. Mom says it's me, but I know she's just trying to get me to identify with the protagonist.

Ride 'Em Cowboy

Grownups only tell kids not to stand on chairs because they don't want us to discover how exciting it is to tip them over and ride them to the floor. As anyone who's seen Dr. Strangelove knows, the higher the fall, the more fun for all. The bruises on my hands and knees are a small price to pay for the cred I'm going to get at the Krippe.

Coffee and an 8x10, please

I like going to brunch at Kistenpfennig because this corner is my favorite color. They should totally switch from selling pretzels to glamor photography.

Open, Says Me

In the mornings, when Mom's still in the bedroom with Abby, sometimes Dad closes the bedroom door. Usually I protest against this horrible injustice to no avail. But today I tried a new tactic: I asked nicely. "Daddy, o(pen) dee do(or) p(l)ease: Mommy (is in there)!" Amazingly, it worked. Wonder if I'll remember how to do it tomorrow.

I also tried "Open the door please" on a can of wooden blocks, but Mom didn't understand. After a few tries I switched to "Open the blocks". She's still learning, so I'm flexible.

Sole Proprietor

Mom's shoes are hard to fill. Maybe I should get out the Play-Doh.

Game On

People are playing D&D here again. I'm getting too big to cast charm person without a verbal component, so Dad's teaching me to yell "twenty!" every time someone rolls a die. I was going to take a level of Rogue, but Mom got mad when I beat her initiative and swiped the dice.

E-ink, meet e-crayon

I'm not sure what computer people mean when they talk about "screen drawing," but now I know it doesn't involve crayons. Sorry, Dad.

Couture Shock

It seems like no matter how well I'm bundled up, all the babies I see on the U-Bahn are wearing at least two more layers. And no matter how pink and frilly my outfit, someone will ask if I'm a boy. Guess I'll have to work on my Munich fashion sense. Do they make knee-high leather boots in size 3 months?

Playtime

After a couple of weeks of staring at the walls in our house, Mom went on a tear. Wednesday we met a group of English-speaking moms and kids at Leann's house, yesterday we went to lunch with a different group of English-speaking moms and kids, and today we had lunch with, you guessed it, yet another English-speaking mom and her kid.

I bet playgroups are even more fun when you know how to play.

Nook

At last, I've found my niche.

Clipping

Yeah, it's small. But like everyone says, it's not the size, it's how you use it.

I've been using it to create my own body modifications, so Dad snipped it off over my vehement protests.

I Want to Ride My Bicycle

Dad keeps saying that my Chariot is designed to be pulled rather than pushed, but until today I didn't believe him. (He also says I've ridden in it that way before, but I don't remember a thing.) Bundled up in lots of warm clothes and a quilted stroller-bag, it was a little chilly, a little scary... and a lot of fun! I'm inspired to practice my latest word: "bicycle".

Tummy Time

Tummy time isn't so bad.

Shadows

Dad's teaching me about shadows. So far I've learned that Mom is much bigger than anyone else, and I come up to Dad's shoulder.

Swing is Here

Life is skittles, and life is beer. Or at least ice cream: 14°C (57°F) on a January morning, and the outdoor tables at the corner Eiscafe were packed. So how come all I got was a push?

Cleaning Sucks

Mom's really impressed. I just like the cozy ride and the white noise.

Sling Low, Sweet Chariot

Our trailer is a double-wide, but until today I didn't get to enjoy it, because it only had Toddler Class seating. But Mom and Dad just got an upgrade to Baby Class for one side.

I hope Sadie doesn't get frightened riding next to a bear.