Yup, that's right, I'm turning 18 months this week. What a ride it has been (literally, with 3 strollers, a wagon, plus the stuff at the playground, I get around). In honor of my year-and-a-half mark, and the fact that Daddy is euphemistically between jobs, he has plenty of time on his hands, we're posting "the best of the best" 18 shots from the last 18 months. Here are the first five, with some color commentary and baby-to-English translation:
This is me at about 3 minutes old. Man, was it cold. And no more on-demand food. I remember asking myself, "What were you thinking, just because things were getting a little cramped, was this really worth it?"
A certain quiet dignity set in following my first sponge bath. I was still in the hospital and feeling OK about the people taking care of me. Nobody told me I would be going home with the only people caring for me with no formal education or training in infant care. I found the situation fraught with both irony and potential disaster.
That's a proud grandmom right there, ladies and gentlemen. No two ways about it, I was the apple of her eye. Being the first grandchild carries with it a certain cache, which, at least to-date, I continue to demonstrate with aplomb (and I've even eaten a plumb, to boot!). Daddy has gone plumb loco. In fact, his humor is so linear, you can draw a plumb line from one pun to the next.
Inside the Actor's Studio? No. Inside the baby cave, actually. Yes, my first few months were spent snuggling with Mommy (and Daddy sometimes) in the baby cave, which is the name Mommy gave our house as she and Daddy spent the first few months figuring out what to do with me...they seemed up to the challenge and we eventually emerged from the cave, thriving, smiling and ready to move to a bigger cave as I began accumulating stuff of all shapes and sizes.
It's hard to be me and some of the early days were particularly challenging. This shot of me, courtesy of "Uncle Lou," was taken shortly after a bath in the kitchen sink. Given my penchant for all things water today (see the post below about a plumber), it's hard to imagine that these experiences were so disconcerting.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Playing in the sink is a genetic trait passed down from both Mommy and Daddy. I may grow webbed fingers and gills. Oh, and by the way, I can push the chair over to the sink, climb up and wreak havoc on the dirty, or as I say "yucky," dishes.
I am a big fan of taking things out of the cabinets and playing with them, putting them in strange places or simply putting them back. Lately, I've been playing with the soda cans that Daddy takes in his lunch each day. I have successfully damaged 2 cans in about 7 months, so that when they jostle in Daddy's bag, they open and soak his brief case--victory is mine!