Lucy Can Read

Like, READ-read. Like sit-in-the-corner-and-read-herself-a-chapter-book read. Tonight she read us a book about polar bears that eat baby seals who have poked their tiny heads through the ice to breathe. She read this without horror, while Milo, my very own baby seal, looked on with wide eyes. She was all, "Mom, that's just what happens." Oh, and she knows the word "scavenge." We got a big laugh about the part where polar bears are so hungry, they are digging in people's garbage. Climate change is so funny [nervous laughter].

We have all been enjoying each other so much lately. Could be this new parenting model, which I will write about in more detail. Not sure if it has changed Lu, or us, or both, but if we can keep on having more of the fun where we laugh about marauding polar bears, we're gonna keep it up.

Milostone: Four Months

He weighs 15 lbs. 3 oz., putting him in the 60th percentile for weight, and taking him off the "super-fat" growth trajectory, which, as his primary food source, I found very satisfying. Oh well. Now's probably an appropriate time to lose that third chin.

He's in the 90th percentile for height. Enjoy that, kid. This is the relatively tallest you will ever be, and you can't even stand up to tower over the other kids.

Head: 40th percentile. I attribute this to his unfortunate right-side flat spot. He's spent too much time with his head turned to the right, sucking his right thumb, being all good-natured. I KNEW there was something wrong with this whole "docile" thing: it will be his misshapen head. GOOD-NATURED AND CROOKED-HEADED.

Official diagnosis: perfect. The kid really is the happiest, smilingest creature you'd want to meet. Lowers blood pressure. Could settle a bar fight. Well on his way to the Nobel Peace Prize.

p.s. I promise not to belabor the "Milostone" device, except now I know Liz D. likes it...

Milostone: Flip

Milo rolled over for the first time today.

We put him in Lu's room to be semi-entertained while Lu and Honour worked out intricate dramas with Playmobil (Lu's room is a guaranteed 30 minutes of happiness).

He's been close to rolling over for weeks now. We had kind of given up. A little while before he rolled over today, I summoned Papa Bear to witness a near-miss. Jason was nonplussed. "He does that all the time."

So we went back to doing what we normally do: ignoring him as he placidly flaps, while we occasionally smile and "guh" at him. During one of my drive-bys, I noticed he was ON HIS STOMACH. He saw me and squawked, as though to say, "WOMAN, I HAVE FLIPPED OVER. RECOGNIZE!"

New Year's Resolution

Learn Portuguese? Write novel? Be more organized? ACHIEVE WILDEST DREAMS?

Have made and flubbed all those.

This year, my new year's resolution is to Be Happier. I will undoubtedly be discussing this in greater detail in some overly wordy and sentimental tome, but until then, I can only say, I am off to a good start. Why? Because I got a phone call from Pie on a Sunday afternoon.

"Come over for spaghetti!"
"But we are going to Annabelle's birthday and we won't be able to bring anything and we don't have any pajamas and I think we better go home."
"Why? It's just spaghetti. Frank is bringing some guitars and I have the cello and I already made the spaghetti and come over!"

So we did. After a perfect birthday party WITH A CLOWN AND BALLOON ANIMALS AND WINE, (thank you, Annabelle), we had a perfectly low key dinner with some of our dearest friends. Who played the cello and the guitar to some Avett Brothers songs (beautifully, but perhaps imperfectly?). And to think, I almost said no, because it wasn't just right. But I said yes, because Pie always says yes (for which I give her endless grief).

Resolved: greedily, mercilessly seek out those things that make you happy and DO THEM. But it might take some sussing out and seeking before you realize what they are.

Signs That I Am Doing a Little Too Much

Yesterday, I found peanut butter in my eyebrow, presumably from my hastily-eaten breakfast.

I have taken to sleeping in my workout clothes in an effort to speed the process of getting to the gym before everybody wakes up in the morning. It is not working.

I have ordered all of Christmas off of Amazon. At least what presents I remembered to buy. I apologize in advance for forgetting you.

My lunch today? A brownie and a cupcake, both stolen from random boxes/trays of sweets I encountered around the office.

Ed. note: I wrote this post last Wednesday and forgot to actually post it. See what I mean?

'Tis the Reasoning for the Season

One day last week when Jason picked Lu up from Crenshaw's, Miss Carol noted that Lucy told her we celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah, which we, uh, don't.

Then we were reading this cute book called "Three French Hens," in which the three kosher chickens don't celebrate Christmas. She said, "Kosher means Jewish?" And I explained as best I could about kosher dietary rules that some Jewish people follow.

She then asked if we are Jewish. I said no, we are Christian. "What's the difference?" she wants to know. I explain that Jews and Christians have a lot in common, etc., etc., but that we believe Jesus was the son of God, etc., etc. I clearly need to be taking this child to Sunday school.

And then: "How do you get Jewish?" "You mean, how do you become Jewish?" "Yes." "Well, you can convert, by deciding to become Jewish, or you can be born that way."

Then she really stumped me. "But you don't believe ANYTHING when you're born, so how can you be anything?!" Rather than go into any detail about ethnicity vs. cultural identity vs. religious affiliation, I explain feebly, "Well, when you're born, your parents try to raise you to believe what they believe."

She thinks on this for a moment and says, "I'm ready for bed now." Thank God.

Phone Call with Nurse at Pediatrician's Office

Me: "So, you're probably going to think I am crazy for asking this, but is it normal for a three-month-old to sleep 12 hours at night and go that long with out wanting to eat?"
Her: "Well, I wouldn't say it's normal, but I would say it's great. And judging by his weight, he can probably go that long."
Me: "So I don't need to be waking him up or anything to feed him?"
Her: "You can if you want to."
Me: "But I don't need to."
Her: "No."
Me: "So I am totally looking a gift horse in the mouth here?"
Her: "Yes, I think so."