Riding high

I like riding in my Daddy Saddle. It's more interesting than my stroller, because I can see duhs and buhs further away. It's warmer, too, which is turning out to be important. So every time Dad puts it on, I reward him with a big leg-hug.

Where there's a pill, there's a way

Back in California, my Prilosec came in an unstable mix with baking soda and water that needs to be kept cool, but not frozen. This is a poor solution for travel. Here, Prilosec comes only in pills, which I can't swallow. Fortunately, German houses are equipped with handy pill crushers. And medicine mixed into yogurt tastes like... yogurt! I don't know what this says about yogurt.

Hang Ten

Mom and Dad got me this new chair so I don't have to gnaw on restaurant highchairs anymore. I don't want a pre-chewed chair any more than you want pre-chewed food. (I do, as it happens, want pre-chewed food.)

It attaches to the table, leaving my feet dangling. I'm practicing hanging ten for next time we visit Uncle Mike in Hawaii.

Deluxe Chin Rinser

Chin rinsers come in do-it-yourself models, too, with convenient handles. Plus, this one doubles as a giant pacifier.

Sleeeeep saaaaacks

When you're above the 50th percentile in length and below the 10th in weight, you're going to have some trouble finding clothes that fit. I had to find a tailor to do a custom alteration, lengthening all my wearable blankets. Luckily Mom wasn't too far away.

Medibottle

Time was when I had to take medicine for acid reflux. There was the horribly salty one, and there was the liquid distillation of peppermint Altoids. Five times a day, Mom and Dad would wrestle me to the floor, pin my tongue down with a finger, and squirt in a foul concoction.

Not anymore! I spit out that nasty stuff until they gave up. Now I just drink yummy milk. A couple of times a day it comes in this weird plastic bottle, and Mom or Dad fusses with a syringe stuck into the bottom of it. Whatever makes them happy. I am gracious in victory.

You should tell your parents to get a Medibottle, too. Sure beats taking medicine.

One for the Record Books

It's a new personal best: a 7-wiper! I get extra points for style by making it when Mom and Dad were already late getting out the door.

Apropos of nothing, Mom and Dad are trying out some new compostable diapers. Nice to know my poop is going to help save the planet.

Graduation

Today I started wearing size 1. They're a little droopy, but I think of it as my own nod to hip-hop fashion. I'm back to wearing them folded over in front and with the tabs meeting in the middle, too. It makes me nostalgic for Day 0, twelve long weeks ago.

Oddly, there are three sizes smaller than 1. Even more oddly, they're not called -2 through 0. How does anyone hope to raise a mathematician this way?

We Wuv Woombies!

My first ever product endorsement. Actually, Mom and Dad are doing the endorsement over my objection.

Woombies are for swaddling babies. Now, regular baby swaddles look like sleeveless sleep sacks with angel wings. Not only do they look cute, but the wings wrap around to pin your arms to your sides. Takes about five minutes to put one on properly -- and you can get your arms free in five seconds. (Plain ol' swaddling blankets are even better. I can get out of one of those before it's even completely on.)

Woombies, on the other hand, are stretchy sleeping bags that zip onto you in seconds and you can't break out of ever. Plus, you look like a little writhing worm with a baby head. How humiliating. On top of that, they don't have any velcro to rip up all the other stuff in the wash. No fun at all.

There are two versions of Woombies, the old ones that zip up from the bottom, and the new ones that zip down from the top. The old ones are easier to get on, but I can push one arm out the neck if I try hard. The new ones are a little trickier to put on, but even more secure.

Mom and Dad swear by Woombies, so you should do your best to make sure your parents don't get you one.

Make it so, Number One

Today, my glider command chair arrived. Thanks, Grandma Natalie! From this sumptuous throne I reign, queen of all I survey. (Actually, given my name, "princess" is more appropriate.) And I love the groovy back-and-forth glidey rocking action.

Retail therapy

Mom and Dad took me to Babies 'R' Us for "Sux 'n' Chux" (bottles and diapers).  I don't know why Dad thinks my 8-per-day diaper habit is relevant to my college fund, do you?

Mom bought new glass milk bottles because my Rebecca hand-me-downs contain teh 3v1lZ Bisphenol-A.  Hysteria over this chemical has reached such a fevered pitch that it is now touted as absent in everything from light bulbs to hedgehogs.

But I don't care about any of that.  I just want the heft of good, old-fashioned glass in my hand when a nursery brawl breaks out.