The B-Word

It's not as bad as it sounds. In fact, it's not bad at all.

The other night, Animalia was sitting on the floor coloring. For some reason I was freezing so I was wrapped in a blanket on the couch. She looks up at me, and in her sweetest voice says, "Mommy? Will you play with me?" But I'm cold and tired. I try to make an excuse. "Play with me! Play with me!" she orders. I try to make it up to her by drawing while sitting on the couch. "No, mom! Sit with me on the floor!" Sigh. I'm gonna do it but aside from cold and tired I'm also very slow. She stands up, walks over to me, and tugs on the blanket. "Take off the B-word and sit with me!" she says, her patience gone. "B-word? What's that?" I ask her. "The blanket, mom," she says, practically rolling her eyes. And, cold, slow and tired, I do. I take off the B-word and color with her. Not because she's the boss of me. But because I was really impressed by the appropriate use of "B-word."

I told you.

Mommy?
Yes, baby?
I told you.
What did you tell me?
I told you about robot monster cows.
What did you tell me about robot monster cows?
They're not very scary at all.

Mommy?
Yes, baby?
I told you.
What did you tell me?
I told you about boys.
What did you tell me about boys?
No more boys, mom.
Is daddy a boy?
Noooooooo. He's a dad.
What's his name?
Daddy the dad.
Is Tata a boy?
No... he's Tati the tata.
Is Uncle a boy?
No... he's a buncle.

Oh Christmas Tree!

We bought a Christmas tree last night and decorated it as a family. Actually, Animalia wandered around with half a candy cane that she'd pilfered (she called it a "candy can") and got her hands all sticky, stopping occasionally to hand us an ornament and point out where it should go. She's a big helper, which is why, this year, we got some "unbreakable" ornaments. They're actually pretty and don't look plastic, which is nice. It's also nice because this year, Animalia is actually occasionally defiant. Last year, telling her not to touch something actually worked.

I'm waiting til the last minute to put presents under the tree as I'm afraid I'll walk in and she'll be surrounded by wrapping paper shreds.

A princess girl

Animalia is a princess girl. We fight with her to put on jeans or pants of any kind. She says they're "gross." No kidding. Actually says "gross." And then there's crying and pleading, mostly on her part, but sometimes on ours. In fact, once, given the option to play outside (which she loves) but with the condition that she had to wear pants, she said, "Let's watch a movie."

Advertising... yum!

Here in lovely Tucson, AZ, there's an intersection nicknamed Five Points where Stone Ave, Sixth Ave and 18th Street all meet. There are a few billboards at this intersection, one of which was recently advertising Burger King with a BIG GIANT picture of a cheeseburger.

One day, Animalia, sitting in the car at a red light with her Daht, asked him what it was. "A BIG GIANT HAMBURGER!" he said. She stored that information in her brain. A few days later, she told me that it was "A BIG GIANG HANGURBER!" and then said "Let's tell Daddy. We can eat one." That night we had turkey burgers. "Yum!" she said, "I LOVE HANGURBERS!" And everytime we passed through that intersection she'd point out the BIG GIANT HANGURBER.

Now the billboard has been replaced and she misses the Burger King ad. She says the "BIG GIANT HANGURBER went ba-bye." The Safeway billboard just isn't as appealing to tiny people with its big red bow and a billion price tags advertising new lower prices.

Good job on that ad, Burger King. Though I must say that toddlers are easy-- when she asks for hangurbers, we don't actually have to take her there. A veggie burger will still suffice.

Singing together

Animalia's latest thing is that she wants to sing together. She says "Let's sing the ABC's. Together. Ready, set, go!" And then we sing. And I'm supposed to sing a certain way. If she's singing silly, like making her voice really low, I'm supposed to do it the same way. Or we'll have to start all over again. "Ready, set, go!"

Follow the leader

The scene: Nana's backyard. I'm there during lunch time. Nana's there. Tata and Uncle are taking a break from working on a project. Animalia is playing.

She tells us all to be fishes. We be fishes, making a fin with our hands and saying glub, glub, glub.

She tells us all to flap our wings, saying flap, flap, flap.

Now jump, she says. We jump.

Now run, she says. Ready, set, go! We all watch her run a circle around the yard.

Shake your booty, she orders. We all shake.

We're doing some sort of modified toddler aerobics according to the orders of a two-year-old. I wonder what the neighbors think.

The Evil Mudder

So Nana tells Animalia not to do something, I can't remember what, and Animalia says, "Leave me alone, evil mudder." And we laugh. And then Nana asks her who the Evil Mudder is and Animalia says, innocently, "I don't see the evil mudder. She's not here."

Mudder

Mudder, or mother, to those of us with the ability to use the "th" sound. Mudder. It's what she calls me, her mother, but also Nana. She understands the difference, knows that it's her grandmother she's calling, but she is constantly playing with words. The only problem with it is that when they're out and about, and Animalia is calling for nana's attention, saying "Mudder! Mudder!" that people give my mom looks like "what is that woman doing with a child that age?!" Actually once someone asked my mom if that was her granddaughter and she said yes, only to get an odd look when Animalia started calling out "Mudder!"

She's funny, my kid.

From gchat

Marisa (nina): Why is it hilarious that Amalia, age 2, has a long black skirt?
She is your child.
Everyone who I fwded the Halloween pic of Amalia in the witch hat thought that was her costume
Because she was in all black
I was like, "No, that's her style"
me: She dresses herself.
This morning it was a yellow longsleeve shirt with a colorful animal picture on the front
a matching pink skirt
(I know, doesn't sound like it matches but it totally does)
AND THEN she started with cute pink sandals that totally went with the outfit
but was distracted when she saw her knee high black boots
she ended up going with the boots "so my feet are warm and cozy"
Marisa (Nina): Why is it it hilarious that Amalia, age 2, has knee high black boots?
Do you not see the humor?
me: They were on sale and I had a coupon.
She also has black patent ankle boots.
She's her mama's girl in many ways.
This means that the next kid won't care about fashion at all.

I've been working.

I've been working. The regular ol' job plus some extra, on-the-side work teaching digital storytelling to some lovely ladies for some vacation money plus dentist and doctor's appointments. There have been repercussions to this. The blog is sorely in need of updating as there are many cute and hilarious things that Animalia is doing lately, so I'm catching up, finishing blog posts that I started but didn't finish and quickly writing new ones about things that I don't want to forget. Also, Animalia is clingy. She fights with people when I'm around, trying to steal precious moments for herself. This past Saturday, she even pushed her Tata away, saying "Get away from me! I'm with my mom!"

So yesterday was my first real day off all alone with Animalia in almost two weeks. We slept in and then spent most of the day cuddling and hugging and giving random kisses. She sat on my lap and we read lots of books and at one point she said, "It's mama and Aya. Me and you. Me and you together." I squeezed her and gave her a kiss and felt love and guilt and happiness and sadness. I've been neglecting my baby a little bit for the greater good (I guess) but I may not care about the greater good at her expense.

Parades.

On Sunday we took Animalia to the All Soul's Procession. She loved it. She loved the "scary monsters" and the drums and the people all dressed up. She loved the dresses and the hula hoop-ers and the big puppet heads. She loved that her dog was there, and her mama and daht and nana and tata. She loved all of it so much that when we left she screamed her little head off. She talked about it the next morning too, telling me about all the "skeleton people and girls" and that her dog was "a good boy with the monsters" and "I love lots of drums and people." Clearly she loves a spectacle as much as I do.

A couple of days later, I took her to the Veteran's Day Parade. I got her all excited by telling her that we were going to a parade, a term she'd heard to describe the All Soul's Procession. So she was thrilled. Then we got there and saw the military jeeps and old cars and flags and she says "Parade... where aaaare youuuuu? Are you right there? Noooooooooooo! Are you right there?! Nooooooooo!" She's cracking herself up at this point and I'm a little embarrassed because her words are crystal clear and people around us are giggling. So we go home. And next time I take her to a parade it has to have lights and fire and dancers and costumes and makeup and drums, lots of big big drums. Maybe the holiday parade?

More words of wisdom

"My mama is a very good eater. Yay!"

--Animalia, watching me eat a piece of toast for breakfast.

Halloween

There was trick-or-treating in the morning, Animalia not yet in her costume but wearing a mostly black outfit and a Hello Kitty Halloween t-shirt. We had gone to Joann to buy some ribbon to put a bow in her hair (yep, I was still forcing Dorothy on her) and she found herself a witch hat that she wouldn't let go. It was on clearance. I bought it for her. So it was the mostly black outfit and the hat. She went to Nana's house and we told her to say trick-or-treat and she did and Nana gave her an M&M. We went to Uncle's house and she said trick-or-treat and got candy there too. We saw one of the Tías Grandes and I covertly handed her an M&M and Amalia said trick-or-treat and Tía dropped it in her plastic pumpkin.

Later, we got dressed and went to a Halloween party in a fun neighborhood with lots of decorated houses and hundreds of trick-or-treaters. Animalia, in her Dorothy costume which she loved (I'm the Dorothy girl!) went trick-or-treating. And, right when we needed her to say it, the thing we'd spent all morning rehearsing, she clammed up. Whatever, she got plenty of candy anyway and saw some "Scary monsters!" and some skeletons. She loved the whole experience. All the dressed up kids. The scary noises. The whole thing.

Then home to bed for her and horror movies for us, the grownups. Next year we'll decorate the house for her.

Pre-Halloween

Animalia is to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz for Halloween. Got her costume. Got her sparkly red shoes. But everytime I ask her if she wants to be Dorothy, she says "I'm the scary, scary witch!"

Alas, this may be struggle.

TWO! Birthday party, part 2.

9:00 am-ish.

Drop off Animalia at Nana's house followed by arrival at the park, covering the tables in the ramada, putting up balloons (clear ones to reflect the bubble theme), etc., etc., etc.



10:30 am-ish

Some guests arrive.



11:00 am-ish

Food is served. Birria and beans and macaroni salad and salsa and tortillas.

Many of the expected guests aren't there.

A few call. They're sick.



noon-ish

Piñata then cupcakes then presents (if memory serves) then thank yous and a quick clean up.

We're done. Til next year.

Words of Wisdom, part 3

"I'm too cute!"

-- Animalia, after putting on her new footie pajamas for the first time.

Treats!

Apparently the nudge that Animalia needed wasn't the Potty Gods nudging her. It was Nana and a couple of M&Ms. I swear she's just squeezing it out when she doesn't even really need to go. Just to get an M&M.

She's just like her Uncle Buncle. Nana had to bribe him when he was Animalia's age. But I guess it works. He's 28 and still using the potty. And he doesn't even have to be bribed.

Potty update

Shortly after I made my potty training update, Animalia started showing interested in the potty again. Today she even pooped in it.

Apparently all I had to do was say it out loud and the potty training gods would step in and nudge her. So. There it is. Wherever they are, whoever they are: Thank you.

TWO! Birthday party, part 1.

Yesterday, 12:36pm, Animalia turned two. Two. TWO!!!!

We celebrated with:
A long walk to Roma Imports with Daht, Nana, and Tata, where we purchased lasagna and bread for dinner. We walked back home a different route and hit a small park and Dairy Queen for ice cream. At DQ, Animalia got a little vanilla ice cream in a cup and sat, legs crossed, like a lady to eat it. When we arrived back at Nana's house, Nina's sister was there to deliver some balloons from Nina. Animalia giggled happily when she saw them. Then she asked if they were Adelina's or Lito's. We told her no and she wandered around holding her ballons "by self" and saying that they weren't Adelina's or Lito's.
After our walk, we baked a cake (from cake mix) at Nana's house. Animalia stirred it "by self" and also said "hold the bowl so I can stir it." "Stir it" sounded like steeew it. It was cute.
After our cake baking we took her home and took naps.
After our naps, we picked up Tío Javier (Animalia now calls him Javiert) and went to the mall. Animalia got some chocolate brown Converse All Stars. Then we went to Build-A-Bear. She was given a name tag stating her name and that it was her second birthday. After loving on all of the empty shells, she chose a bear. We were asked if we wanted to add sound and pressed a few buttons with Animalia, trying them out, but we elected not to add sound after one of them said "What's up, girlfriend?" and we decided we couldn't listen to that over and over again. Animalia was scared by the stuffing machine as it was almost as loud as a vaccuum cleaner (and she hates those). She liked the beating heart, so we added one. Then she became distracted by a little red convertible. We chose a couple dresses and had her choose one. She went back to trying to climb into the little car. It was time to finish up, so she helped me press the buttons on the computer, until she became distracted by a different computer. I panicked and chose the name "Petunia" for the bear. And so it was. The birth of Petunia.
After the bear building, we went back to Nana and Tata's house for dinner with Tío and April. Animalia laughed hysterically and forcefully every time anyone said "Petunia" and played with her balloons some more and finally, when we asked whose birthday it was, answered "It's MY birthday!" We ate dinner and cake and unwrapped presents. She got clothes and a book and Robin Hood and a Tee Ball set and a baby doll that has a tuberculosis cough and comes with a play doctor set and a miniture grill along with wooden shish kebab and s'mores. She was impressed and happy. We were happy and tired.
After her small birthday party, we went home.
After we got home, we relaxed and, finally, slept.
After Animalia woke up in the morning, she asked for Petunia. And laughed.

Birthday party, part 2 will be posted sometime after her October 11 party. Pray for my sanity. Please.

Mi Animalia in a Wordle

Potty training strike

There's this unpublished post, a long one, that details our trials and travails with potty training. It was long. It was detailed. It remains unfinished.

The basic story is this. Animalia started potty training on her own initiative somewhere around 18 months. She just decided that she wanted to go and she did. Not all the time, but regularly enough. Then a little more than a month ago, she was going at Nana's house once or twice a day and most of the time when she was at home. "Wooohooooo!!" I thought. "We'll be out of diapers by two!!!"

And then, a little less than two weeks ago, she quit. She now refuses to go to the potty. She's on strike.

Crap.

Cupcakes

"Aya needs a cupcake," Animalia says, peering into Nana's refrigerator.
"There are no cupcakes," Nana and Mama both say, almost in unison.
"No cupcakes, " she whispers, almost as if she's giving herself a reminder. "The cupcakes are at Nina's house."

Nina bought her a cupcake during our visit in August and apparently it's made it into her long term memory.

Potions.

I'm watching Animalia in the shower. She has appropriated a couple of shampoo bottles, empty ones, and some plastic containers to pour water from one to another. Then she delicately mixes it with her finger. She's very busy.

All I can think about is when we were young, me and Nina and Uncle Buncle (Tío Javier). Nina and I used to lock ourselves in the bathroom and mix potions from random liquids we found in the bathroom cabinet. Nasty stuff-- alcohol and hydrogen peroxide and various shampoos. Javier would be banging on the door, begging to play with us, and after the potion was ready, we'd open the door. We'd tell him he could play with us if he drank our potion. He'd drink the stuff. And then we'd lock him out again. We were rotten. In retrospect I'm surprised we didn't kill or poison him.

So I'm watching Animalia play with this water and I imagine her with siblings. I laugh.

I love you, Daddy!

Daddy says, "Give me a beso," and starts leaning toward Animalia. Animalia starts backing away. "Give me a kiss, " he says again, pushing his face toward hers. She's struggling slightly, trying to get away from his beard. She puts her hands up, blocking him. She shakes her head. "I love you daddy, I love you, I love you, I love you." But no kisses today.

Words of Wisdom, Part 2

"You're done."

-- Animalia to Tata, irritated at the way he was reading to her. She took the book from his hands and closed it.

Words of Wisdom, Part 1

"She had a major occurance and now she needs to go through the car wash."

--Tata, describing a particularly disgusting poopy diaper

The bed.

Lately, the Animalia's favorite place to play is the bed. Any bed. It can be Nana's bed, Mama's bed, or even "the playpen bed." So once she's in a bed, she wraps the blankets around herself and lays down on the pillow. She scrunches her eyes closed. Then she announces that she's asleep, that it's nighttime, that she's "dreaming in the night." She pops up to a sitting position and laughs. "Aya's awake!"


The dreaming thing really gets me. She talks about dreams, sometimes, when she actually wakes up from actual sleep, she tells us what she dreamt. "Aya's dreaming about Daddy," she told me one morning when she woke up and found that her dad had already left to work. "I dream in the nighttime," she tells us when we ask her. "I want to have dreaming!" she says when she's exhausted and desperate to go to bed.

Last night, she woke up in the middle of the night. I think she had a nightmare. "Dreaming!" she said in a half cry, "Bad boy!" I scooped her up, kissed and hugged her and she fell asleep with her head against my shoulder. In the morning, I asked her about it. "Did you have a scary dream?" "Dreaming is bad boy. No, no, no dreams!" she said, in broken toddlerish.

Two is just around the corner.

Time flies. My baby now calls herself a "teeny tiny girl." She walks and talks and demands. She plays and "reads" books. She sings and dances. She chooses her own clothes, mainly dresses. She can put on her own shoes and pull on her own zapetas. She can identify the doctor's office and the credit union when we pass by in the car ("the doctor girl's house" and the kangaroo's house). When she wants to go somewhere she says "Take my hand." On her tippy toes, she's tall enough to reach the lower mail slot at the post office and loves to push the mail in. She has imaginary friends, still The Boy, plus some random others that she talks to occasionally. She can buckle herself into her stroller and she does, when I'm in a hurry and I just throw her in. She loves to go to the store, any store and she makes up names for stores she wants to go to (The Dancing Store!). She continues to look more and more like a kid and less and less like a baby. She makes jokes. She's bossy. She's lovey. She loves hair and clothes and zapatos.

It makes me happy, my baby being so healthy and smart and beautiful. It makes me sad that she's headed away from being a baby.

My baby is turning two in a little more than two weeks. We'll have a quiet "Happy Birthday to You" at Nana's house on the actual day, then a bigger, more hectic "Happy Birthday to You" at the park the following weekend. Bubble-themed. And then it's goodbye to One.

Teeny tiny frustration is hilarious.

Frustration, from the self-labeled "teeny tiny girl" is so funny we can't help laughing. It begins with a shriek or a complaining noise, possibly a whine, and then ends up with her saying, "WAIT A MINUTE, WAIT A MINUTE!" while stomping. The demands soon follow. And then sometimes a scream or two, or a fake cry where she actually says, "AYA'S CWYING!" It's really hard not to laugh. Especially after being told by a not-quite-two-year-old to wait a minute.

Arizona Tour '09

Three days in a pickup truck. Four adults, one toddler. Jerome, using the wrong directions through Prescott, getting on the right path to Crown King and onto the cabin in Horsethief Basin, then through Sedona and Flagstaff to our ultimate destination, the Grand Canyon. Back through Valle, AZ to see Flintstones Bedrock City and the Chapel of the Holy Dove, through Flagstaff and Phoenix and HOME! If Google Maps is correct, we traveled over 1300 miles. That's true insanity.

Animalia was ok throughout the trip, sometimes complaining that she wanted to go home, asking for her big bed, wanting to see Nanitas, or asking if we were going to see Nina. We were loaded with distractions for the difficult times, having packed several books, some finger puppets from Cayman courtesy of Britta and probably best of all, a Melissa and Doug dry erase/magnetic chalk board that Nana bought her before we went on the trip. She loved the dry erase marker and then the "cleaning" but loved the letters equally.

Destination-wise, she liked Jerome and the wrap she borrowed from begrid to protect her against the chilly air, the lovely shop called House of Joy that used to be a brothel, where she said hi to a fake giraffe outside and told him to say hi to her, reminded herself not to touch anything inside, danced to Russian music and the lady working there (the owner maybe?) asked her name, insisting that we'd see it in lights one day. She loved the cabin in Horsethief as it gave her the opportunity to run around outside with baseball bats and "soccer baseballs" and play with her miniature cast iron skillet. She also seemed to like camping, once we finally settled in at the Grand Canyon Mather Campground. We'd prepared her with the book Maisy Goes Camping and she was pretty happy to be in the tent, just like Maisy. She was thrilled to see a raven the size of a cat in the campground, saying it was the Tata bird and asking where the Aya bird was. And when she saw the Canyon itself? Daht asked her what it was and she responded that it was "a painting."

Other highlights:
At one point she was totally frustrated with driving and started asking to go to the store to buy a bicycle, a toothbrush, and eventually just "stuff." Later, on the way home, she kept asking to stop at the "dancing store." When I asked her where it was she would look around, point at a random store and say "I found it!"
"Where's your mommy?" asked Daht. "Bad boy!" she replied, "Aya's mommy is right here!"
She really bonded with Britta although she called her Brenda for quite awhile til she finally started calling her Brin-ta.
Animalia eating fistfulls of hummus in the truck. She started with carrots and when those were gone decided that she had to use her hands.
Lots of hugs and kisses for me, telling everyone who would listen that "this is Aya's mommy."

Mostly it was a whirlwind, lots of stops, lots of driving, slightly disorganized, sometimes cold. She cried a few times in the car, frustrated at being trapped, but even then I think we were all tired and frustrated so it was understandable. We were thrilled to be home, capping the trip with a car/truck exchange at Nana's and Tata's where Animalia played in her sandbox for a few minutes, touched all her things and took a shower. Then home where she was more than thrilled to see Cooper and he was excited to see her too, nosing at her every time he'd run past her.

There was some laying around for a couple hours, then a dead sleep was had by all and we're back to the routine this morning.

Bandaids

Imaginary bandaids. Animalia's new favorite thing. First, using both hands, she carefully plucks an imaginary bandaid from somewhere, the couch, her patient's hand, Mama's pansa. Then she approaches her patient and identifies the coco. This can be anything from a tiny scab to a mole. Any imperfection will do. She carefully smoothes the bandaid on the "hurt" place, again, using both hands. Then she pats it softly and says "Are you ok? It's ok" and she moves on to the next object of her tiny doctoring.

Schedule, schedule, schedule

So it took a few days but we're somewhat settled into our routine again. Animalia is much calmer and nicer and easier than she was on vacation. Routine is important to her, makes her a nicer kid to deal with.

The "somewhat" part of "somewhat settled" is really that she's been exceptionally clingy with me. She cried yesterday when I left Nana's post-lunch break. This morning, when I told her she'd be eating breakfast with Daddy, she said "No. With Mommy" and when I told her I had to go to work, she asked, "With Aya?" I think it's a little rough for her to go from spending all waking (and sleeping) hours with Mama for an entire week to having to spend big chunks of time without me. It's hard for me too. Going back to the regular schedule gives me a bit of guilt. Vacation just reminds me how many more important things there are than work, with Animalia, of course, being at the top of the list.

So. It's this week and the coming week of schedule, schedule, schedule. Then we'll throw it out of whack again when we head to the Grand Canyon with Daht and Britta over Labor Day weekend. Then it's back to schedule, schedule, schedule. Unless I win the lottery.

A visit to the Nina

Considering it would take me a month to have time to create a play-by-play posting of our vacation to the Nina and fabulous Washington, DC, I'll post a highlights/lowlights list instead.



Highlights:

-All of the flights! Animalia was fantastic, so good that she elicited compliments on ALL of the flights, both to and from. One man actually praised not only Animalia, but my very own parenting skills. Someone else, seated in front of us, also told me that my baby is very very smart as they could hear her counting to 20 during the flight.

-Animalia recognized Nina immediately and not only did she know her as Nina but she also knew her name and got it only slightly wrong, calling her Amarisa. It was very adorable.

-When we took her to Sesame Place, the very first time she saw the characters, she was so excited she shook!

-She was very lovey to Gloria and remembered her name.

-She saw the creepily taxidermied animals at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History and was ecstatic, especially when she noticed the panda bear, repeating "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What do you see?" over and over again. She also loved seeing the "dinosaurus" and the big elephant.

-She was thrilled at the Natural History Museum's special butterfly exhibit. It's a small structure inside the museum built specially for live butterflies with many lovely flowers planted in planters. We walked inside and there were butterflies everywhere. Animalia ooohed and aaahhed, especially when one landed on her. Very exciting.

-Happy as a clam on many rides including the carousel on the National Mall and the teacup-type ride and flying fish ride at Sesame Place.

-Happy as a clam in any water attraction at Sesame Place.

-She burst into song, singing "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow! You're only a day away!" as I was trying to put her to sleep. I guess this one is a highlight AND a low point because she was being very difficult at this point but it was so hilarious that we stifled laughter to maintain the serious environment that sleeping requires.

-Happy as a clam at H&M, totally thrilled about getting new clothes, especially the Hello Kitty tunic like thing.

-Loving the fried foods. It must've been crazy for her to eat french fries more than once during the week (I'm a terrible mother on vacation, a better one when we're home). She also LOVES dip. ANY dip. Ketchup, honey mustard, ranch. Dip! Yay!

-Her new Count Von Count that "Mama bought you" at Sesame Place. She calls him her "baby Count" and puts him to sleep tenderly.

-Italian ice on the National Mall.

-Buckling herself into her stroller all by herself.

-Most of the driving from DC to PA was fairly decent. She spent much of the time talking to herself if she wasn't asleep.

-She pooped in the potty for the very first time!!!

Lowlights:
-The National Zoo visit. Although the Animalia enjoyed seeing the first few animals very much, there were very few animals out by the time we got there. Then she was flopping around on the ground and at one point hoarded food in her mouth for about 20 minutes until she spit it all out near the horseys. This is her new and totally disgusting trick that I hope passes quickly.

-She spent a little time being defiant, a few times reduced to screeching. I think mostly she was tired and disoriented from not being at home and being totally out of her routine. Every car trip resulted in her asking to go see Daddy, or to go to Nana and Tata's house.

-Our visit to the Library of Congress to see Nina. When Nina took her stroller for brief storage, Animalia started screaming, "Aya's stroller!!!" and crying real tears. In a very quiet place. Where researching people could hear us. Because Nina stole her stroller.

-After she pooped in the potty, she finished it off by pooping in the diaper. Seriously. Yuck. Also, aside from the pooping, she wasn't too into using the potty, at least not as much as she was at home. I think the grown up potty was sort of weird for her, but also we were out so much and she was so distracted that she'd rarely mention it. On a more positive note, she seems to have readjusted quickly. Thank the lord.

-The mosquitos. Little bastards. Actually, they were rather large, the size of flies. And fat and slow off of my own blood and the blood of my teeny tiny toddler. We're still dealing with the itching and the total unprettiness. Here's hoping we don't get West Nile.

So there it is. A trip to see the Nina. All by ourselves. I'm exhausted but happy to see, after making a list, that there are more highlights than lowlights.

The car!

Sometimes, still, after 22 months, in complete wonder and awe of the fact that I have a child, or in complete wonder and awe of how big she is now, or how quickly she's grown, or how incredibly wonderful she is in many ways, I ask the Animalia, "Where did this baby come from?" A few days ago, she decided to reply, "From home." I laughed but promptly forgot about it. A day or so later, under similar circumstances, the Nana asked the same question just after Animalia had arrived. Animalia answered this time to, only this time she came from "the car." The best thing is that when we ask this, she's started to look at us like she thinks we should already know.

Eck. An open letter.

Dear You-know-who-you-are,

Did I ever tell you that when Amalia burps she thinks it's hilarious? And then she "makes" herself burp, which consists of her saying "ECK!" and then laughing hysterically at her own incredible wit? This is really nothing new, it started a few months ago, but every time she does it, all I can think of is when me and you used to make ourselves belch and how awesome we thought we were for being able to belch like drunken sailors. Didn't we also try to belch the alphabet?

Were we disgusting, or just ahead of our time?

Lots of love,
Animalia's Mami (she's recently started to call me that, Mami, or sometimes she calls me Parent.)

Let the Halloween planning begin.

Yesterday afternoon, Daht calls me at work. The very disturbing conversation follows.

Daht: So. I was thinking about Halloween.
Me: What about Halloween?
Daht: Well, we could be the Warriors again. Or we could all be serial killers.
Me: I could be Lizzie Borden although I guess she wasn't a serial killer. She's recognizable though.
Daht: I could be the Nightstalker. And your brother could be someone else.
Me: He could be Charles Manson.
Daht: And we could dress Animalia up in a clown costume and paint glasses on her face. She could be John Wayne Gacy!
Me, laughing: We'll have to talk about this when we get home.

So. What say you? Is that the absolutely most scarring thing that would ruin her forever? Or are we hilarious?

Disclaimer/plea: We are mostly excellent parents. Please don't take our baby away. We DO love her very much and would never do anything to truly harm her.

Big baby!

We arrive at Nana's in the morning, as per usual. Animalia, still a little sleepy, walks in and says Hi to Nanitas (her words, not mine) and Tatati (again, her word). Nana asks me if we saw the big baby in Animalia's high chair. We have yet to notice it. I turn and see a large baby doll. I tell Animalia to look and see the baby in her high chair. She looks and immediately assumes "shy baby position," taking my hand and puts her hand to her mouth. I think she thinks that it's a real baby, and though she has a good sight line to the doll, we're really in another room, and I understand her hesitation. This doll, from this distance, looks real and chubby and big.

We walk toward the doll. As we get closer, Animalia says, "It's a big baby!" And it IS a big baby. It has moveable arms and legs and eyes that open and close. It looks old, though, good condition but definitely not made recently. Nana bought it at a rummage sale, took off it's clothes and washed them, cleaned off the molded soft plastic body with warm water and bleach. The baby is marked "American Char."

She's a heavy baby and has a little hole in her mouth made for feeding with a tiny bottle. I immediately ask Nana if the doll can potty but she hasn't opened up the diaper to check. I think that this was one of those dolls made for institutional use, either daycare or to teach teenagers how hard it is to have a baby by dragging one along for a few days. We google. It is neither. It's an American Character Doll Co. doll called Toodles made way back in 1953. Nana finds one on ebay, similar condition to Animalia's big baby, starting bid $125. Holy. Crap.

It seems pretty indestructable. We're not taking it away from Animalia. She's attached. She spent most of the morning taking care of her and calling the Big Baby her "baby sister." BABY SISTER? Where did she learn that one?

Carreta World.

The scene: Target. Sunday afternoon. Many people purchasing, browsing, and milling about. In attendance: Mama, Daht, Animalia.

We're leaving the store, heading to the car. We cruise pass the stable full of shopping carts. Animalia notices.

Animalia: Welcome to carreta world everybody!
Mama: What? What did you say?
Daht: What did she say?
Animalia: The carretas are red. Red means rojo.

Discussion ensues regarding Animalia's brilliance and apparent sense of humor.

Scene close.

The negotiation.

Me: Do you want some cold water with ice?
Animalia: Or some juice?

Me: ¿Quieres poner los zapatos blancos?
Animalia: Or the new red shoes?

Let's try phrasing these things as statements.

Me: Put on your jeans.

Animalia: Or the dancing dress?

Me (firmly): Es tiempo de hacer mimis.

Animalia: Or go potty?

Sometime in the last couple of weeks, the Animalia discovered the art of negotiation, and right around the same time, discovered her very excellent screaming voice. I think some invisible power is whispering softly, "Welcome to the twos" and then laughing hysterically. That's what I get for being loving and supportive. I should've just broken her tiny spirit when I had the chance.

And then it was me.

Remember the tiny red dots, referenced in my previous post? Well, by the next day they turned into a full on rash. Poor baby Animalia had rash on her face, rash on her chest and pansa, rash on her back and shoulders. Rash. But at least she didn't have any more fever.

My throat culture turned out to be negative for strep, even though I had white pus pockets in the back of my throat. Then I got more tired, on top of the "normal" tired of rearing a toddler and the "normal" tired of taking care of said toddler during many feverish sleepless nights. I was tired and achy and throat-hurty and sick. Just sick. For three days.

All that for "just a virus."

Three feverish nights, one hilarious conversation

Sunday night. Fever.


Monday night. Fever.


Tuesday night. Fever and a few tiny red dots on the face.


Wednesday early morning. Fever until the administration of Motrin and a shower. Tiny red dots aren't so apparent but Animalia is rubbing her face.


Later Wednesday morning. Doctor's visit. Animalia has lost a whole pound since Monday. Ears? Fine. Chest? Fine. Attitude? Cheerful but wondering why everyone keeps touching her. Throat? Ahhhhh.... there's the problem. Typical early childhood virus. Should run its course all by itself.


Crisis? Averted through dumb luck and by nothing I did. I'm relieved. Nana, who took Animalia to the doctor to meet me since I was coming from work, is relieved. Animalia just wants to go home. I run back to work and call Daht.



Me: She's fine. It's a regular childhood virus called coxsackie virus.

Daht: WHAT?

Me: Coxsackie.

Daht: Cosackie?

Me: Cock. Sackie. Like cock. And sack. And eeeee.

We both start laughing.

Daht: Is there another name for it? Because I can't go to work and tell them that if anyone asks. I can't go to work saying my daughter has cock-sackie.

Me: I'll look it up and call you back.


I know we're going to be calling each other coxsackie for ages, until the first time Animalia says it at least.

And now I have a sore throat. Yay! Throat culture for me tomorrow morning. Did you know that little tiny kids don't get strep very often? That's what I was told when I asked how contageous coxsackie is and should I even be at work. It is unusual in children before the third birthday.

Turn off the color, daddy

It was stormy out and Animalia was sitting in her high chair at Nana and Tata's house, a plate with cucumbers and crackers in front of her. Her eyes were glassy and small, she was barely picking at her food. She didn't look very happy. We waited out the worst of the storm and got home. She looked even less happy and felt hot. Once home, I changed her into her pajamas and took her temperature. It said one-oh-three-point-something. Oh my god. Tylenol. We hadn't used the thermometer in awhile so I tried it on myself. It didn't work. Great. Was her temp really 103 or was the thermometer just bad? A phone call to Nana and Tata and Tata brought another thermometer to us so that Daht wouldn't have to run out to the store. Animalia was asleep. Her new temp said 101.something. Not as bad but still not great. And so an entire night of fever would begin, with no other signs of illness other than lethargy and disinterest in food and a very occasional tiny cough. "Turn off the color, daddy," she would say at bedtime, her eyes too tired to see the light.

Her fever persisted into the next morning. We saw the doctor. Animalia was well-behaved, easily stepping onto the scale (she weighed in at a whopping 32 pounds), allowing the stethoscope, only a slight grimace when her ears were checked. No ear infection, nothing obvious, just fever. The doctor gave her advice: switch to Children's Motrin and get a chest x-ray tomorrow if the fever persists. At that point, we should be concerned about pneumonia.

That was earlier today. Now, she's into her second night of misery. More fever. Right before bed her temp was 102.8 and her eyes were glazed and tiny, even as she sang a song about hands clapping and another song about shorts. Her songs were abbreviated and she curled up in a ball immediately afterward. She fell asleep quickly' her still feverish body curled up against me, my hand resting on her warm stomach, though she started a few times when I tried to move my hand. She'll sleep in our bed tonight while I sit up and google "toddler fever" and listen to her breathing for any other hints of illness.

I hope this is over soon.

She's a baby.

I was reading an article recently that theorizes that right around two years old a child has been alive long enough to have long-term memory. So that's why two-year-olds revert in some ways, asking for a baby bottle in some cases, or maybe quit potty training, etc. Animalia has dealt with this by doing things that she used to do. Like rolling around on the floor and "crying" or playing "kaboom," a game she played when she was just a tiny baby where she'd lay on her back and throw her feet in the air, only to allow to fall back down. At Nana's house, with the wood floors, it would make a huge sound, and she'd laugh and laugh. She was so little then, I don't think she was even rolling over yet, or at least not regularly. So she's a baby again, wanting to be carried, telling me she's Mama's baby and just generally being a baby.

I'm mostly OK with this only I really wish she'd hurry up with the potty training.

¡Grandes Exitos de Animalia!

Animalia's greatest hits including:

Mr. Noodle

Elmo

Clapping Hands

Lights

and much, much more!

And she's an artist...

She sits at her tiny red desk and opens it up to find a variety of crayon-like things and some paper. She sets herself up. Drawing implements in the well. A few pieces of paper at the ready. She selects a blue crayon. "Bue," she says. And then she carefully scribbles a circle-like object on the paper. "It's a bue Nana," she explains. She throws her crayon on the floor and selects a new one. "Gween," she tells us. She draws a similar scribble. "It's a gween Nana," she explains again, and it is a green Nana. We can tell. Next, by request, she draws a red Tata. We request some Mamas and Dahts. "No," she replies confidently. She's very busy drawing Nanas and Tatas.

And she can sing!

Animalia has spent the last few nights singing before bed. I believe it's a natural extension of her love of musica and dancing. She'll sing about anything and everything. She even takes requests. Her songs entail one subject, announced before the song begins, one descriptive lyric of said subject, and a finale which is usually just clapping for herself and saying YAY! Example: "Aya sing about hands. Haaaands, hands, haaaaands, hands, shaking hands, hands, hands, haaaaaaannnnddsss!" Clapping. "YAY!"

She also takes requests. Sing a song about Daht. "Aya sing a song about Daht. Daaahhhtt, daht, daaaa---eeeeee, daht, Dadeeee Poooooo! Yay!"

Her singing sounds hysterical and hilarious and commences, methinks, as a diversionary tactic to avoid going to sleep. This, however, seems to backfire, as she expends so much energy singing a good five or six songs in a pitch previously unkown to man that she seems perfectly happy to fall asleep a short time later with a stern "Es tiempo de hacer mimis."

Too much to drink in imaginary land.

Animalia is playing with a stack of plastic cups. She unstacks them. Then she stacks them. This is, apparently, the most hilarious thing she's done all day. The cups go with her into the living room. She takes one off the stack and puts it under the end table, as if it's a dispenser of some kind of liquid (note: we can't recall a time when she's actually been into a restaurant where drinks are dispensed this way, but it obviously made a big impression). She hands it to her Daht. "Juice," she tells him, and then, "jugo," you know, just in case he needs her translation services. He takes a big imaginary slurp. She goes through the same motions for Mama, then for Cooper. The dog doesn't even feign interest in the empty plastic cup, but she loves him at this moment so this doesn't matter. She gives us a minute to finish our delicious imaginary juice. She takes this time to drink her own imaginary juice. Then she looks around, satisfied, and makes another round. She's gathering our cups, restacking them perfectly. "That's enough," she tells everyone individually. We've been cut off.

The Boy

For a couple of nights, Animalia has been talking to "The Boy."

"Do you like apples, Boy?..Those aren't apples, Boy, those are apple toes...Silly goose, Boy."

We ask her where The Boy is and she points to him. Last night, she even said, "Right there, do you see him Mama?" I did a dramatic shriek for Daht's benefit and we both laughed, but honestly, thie imaginary friend is a little creepy.

She has other imaginary friends. She likes to fight with her cousin Colie (Animalia says Coh-wee) and she hasn't seen Colie since Easter. "No, no, Cowie! It's Aya's!" She's also started bossing someone named Dancio around. Not sure where she got that name or who Dancio is exactly, but she's the boss of him or her or it. Neither of these is quite as creepy as The Boy.

A friend of my mom's said that her daughter, a teacher, is getting additional certification to teach gifted children. One of the indicators of gifted-ness is imaginary friends. I had imaginary friends. So did my brother. But I don't remember being all creepy about it. I'll have to ask my mom if we creeped her out.

Woah-ing

Woah-ing is the invention of my silly and smart daughter. I didn't know about woah-ing until she told me that she wanted to "do woah-ing" one evening. Actually, it sounding like "do woahwing." I had no idea what that was until she grabbed my hands and sort of hung from them. Then I realized. Sometimes, when she's off balance, we'll say "Woah!" and she'll grab our hands. So she made this into a verb. Very creative, I say. But now the woah-ing requests are coming in every evening. I toss her around a little, slide her on the floor. And then I'm tired. But Animalia isn't, so she asks to do it "o-gain?" and I comply. A few more times with the woah-ing, then it's time to distract her with a book.

Animalia loves verbs. She constantly creates new ones and gives new meaning to those already in the common vocabulary. She's constantly making or doing or dancing or shaking or wiggling or, another new one, sandling. Sandling is the act of putting on sandals. Also known, in Animalia-speak, as aching, the act of putting on huaraches.

Animalia's babies. An inventory.

Babao. A small stuffed yellow lab that Nana bought her.

Tata's babao. AKA Owney. Nana bought Owney for Animalia at the U.S. Postal Museum in Washington, DC. See Owney's story here.

Ana. Raggedy Ann doll that Mama's Nina bought for Animalia's first Christmas.

Ti Ti. A mildly hazardous ducky/chicky that Nina bought for Animalia around Easter. Ti Ti wears red mary janes.

Teeny Tiny Baby. A teeny tiny baby doll.

Blue Eyed Baby. Description obvious.

Brown Eyed Baby. Again, obvious.

Elmo. A big Elmo purchased, much to Daht's dismay, at a thrift store. It still had it's original tags on PLUS it was washed. So there, Daht.

Red baby. A soft plush doll wearing a red dress and hat that Tia Margaret and "the boys" bought her for Christmas.

Baby Dog. This crazy talking dog that Mama's Nino bought her for her very first Christmas. We took the batteries out. It was slowly making us insane.

She mostly named these "babies" herself and spends countless stretches of time swaddling them and rocking them, hugging them and kissing them, and making them kiss and hug each other. She also feeds them and clothes them. Then she unclothes them. She occasionally diapers them. And chastises them. And makes them jump and dance. And sometimes, she makes them attack.

Dog Days

Yesterday I was so tired I felt nauseous. I'm not exaggerating. Nauseous. Dizzy. Not processing correctly. I went for a lunchtime visit the Animalia at Nana y Tata's house and she was napping. She slept right through lunch. Part of me was disappointed since my lunchtime visits help get me through the rest of my crazy work day. The rest of me was relieved. I was so tired I didn't think I had the energy to play with her or chase her or read to her or tickle her. I just relaxed. Ate a little. Went back to work.

After work, I went home. She was already home with Daht. The nausea continued, not as strong as earlier in the day, more like background nausea. We went through our routine mostly, though after dinner, I "played" with her and read to her while laying on the couch. At one point, she asked me to "walk around the town" with her and "mama jump with Aya?" and I just couldn't get up. Daht offered but she turned him down by crying Mama, Mama! as if he were kidnapping her. I felt a little guilty, but too exhausted to do anything about it. I distracted her by asking her to bring me things, el libro de bear y dog, las chanclas, tu baby, Jack. Luckily Jack (her Jack in the Box) distracted her til almost bedtime. She hadn't played with him for awhile and she was finding him particularly hilarious, telling him, "Get in there, Jack," when the music stopped and he popped out and then "Jack jumping" while she bounced the entire thing on the couch mere inches from my head. Then we played a game called Are You? which consists of asking each other silly questions. "Are you a tickle pants?" I asked. "Are you a mama pants?" she responded.

Bedtime came soon enough. She fell asleep fairly easily. I was grateful. I went to bed early. I was almost asleep when I heard her say "Mama change the zapeta?" I groaned, got up, changed the zapeta. "Thanks, Mama, thanks," she said. Then she asked "?Es tiempo hace mimis?" "Si, es tiempo de hacer mimis," I told her. "OK!" she said, and then, out of the blue, quietly, "It's OK, mama." Then she rolled over and fell asleep. I was elated. Everyone slept comfortably and quietly through the night.

The hottest days of summer are the hardest for me. I'm swollen. I'm exhausted. My bones hurt. My hair falls out. My skin hurts. I have to take each day on it's own merits and the big picture blurs. So far so good though, as bad as all that sounds, I've been able to maintain somewhat. And though the guilt hits a little when Animalia wants me to jump with her, I have so far been able to come up with distractions. She's a good baby, that Animalia, a happy baby, and she entertains herself when necessary. She has her moments, but I'm beyond thrilled that her moments aren't really that bad. I've said this before, but I'll say it again. Nature gave me the baby I could handle.

Restraint

Daht was overwhelmed with love and had his hand on Animalia's pansa. "Kindly restrain yourself, father, as I'm trying to go to sleep," Animalia told him. Actually she said, "Daht. Your hand. Hold it with your hand." But the first thing is what she meant. I could see it in her eyes.

Morning Medley

Mi Animalia, she is a singer. Here's what she sang while I was in the shower:

The itsy bitsy spider went up lalalala Elmo's World aserrín aserrán cantaba la rana debajo del agua and now I know my ABC's next time won't you sing WITH ME.

And then she said YAY! and clapped for herself. And I had just gotten out of the shower so I said YAY! and clapped for herself. And then Cooper woke up and semi-charged the toddler and licked her. And then she said YAY! and clapped for Cooper "O-wake" and I said YAY and clapped for Cooper too. "Oh-gain?" she asked. "Again?" I asked. "But mama's already tired."

Tick, tock

Time flies.

Animalia is looking more like a little kid than a big baby. Ask her if she's a big girl though, and she'll say no, that she's a big baby. She talks more every day, says several word sentences. This morning she woke up to the sounds of the garbage truck and said, "No, no, Daht. Stop making noise with the garbage truck." No lie. Animalia is a conversationalist.

She's a relatively nice baby. When other adults or big kids are around, she shows her toys, makes animal sounds, and dances for them. She's an excellent hostess. When there are other babies around, she gets shy sometimes, but will quietly correct them when they've done something wrong. A few days ago, she was at a play group and a boy hit her on the forehead with a block. She told him no, then told him to be nice. She made a frowny face though, almost like she was going to cry, but it seemed more like her feelings were hurt than she was physically hurt.

She makes up words. We think. Her speech is pretty understandable, but occasionally she repeats sounds that she likes or attaches sounds to words. For example, Nanani, nanana, nanata all mean Nana. Daddypoo, Dada Da, Dada La all mean Daht. Also, recently when she accomplishes something, she'll say Ta-Da! She also says Geez Louise! And when you ask her if she wants a plátano, she'll say, "¡plata-sí!"

She makes up jokes. Like doing the Itsy Bitsy Spider with her toes. Or with her doll's toes. Or with her Mama's toes. She tickles people and animals. She pretends to be different animals. She also does things that aren't particularly funny and then forces a laugh and then tells us to laugh.

Potty training is slowly evolving. She knows about the potty and toilet paper. She does funny things to go to the potty though. Like one day she insisted on taking off her pants and diaper, putting on her white shoes (specifically the white ones), reading a book, and pretending that a flashlight was a microphone. THEN, and only then, would she go to the potty. She went though, so I can't complain. Also, recently, she's started to think burps and farts are funny. And she'll call people on them too, so careful with the bodily functions around her, because she'll report what you did to everyone. For days.

She remembers everything. A couple of weeks ago she saw one of her Tios and his new truck. A week later she started telling me about his truck. Also, that he was wearing jeans and that she loves jeans.

Speaking of fashion, she "can't live without fashion!" This might be an odd phrase to teach a tiny person, but she loves shoes and clothes. An easy way to entertain her is to give her an ad with clothes in it. She loves to dress herself and choose her own clothing. Her favorite looks are to create a maxi dress out of one of mama's longer tanks (she criss crosses the straps all "by self") or to layer (a la bag lady). She also will create turbans out of pants. Not sure, but she may be hosting Little Edie Beale or Albert Soto (a departed friend who would understand Animalia's love of fashion). She's been putting on her simplest shoes "by self" for several months now.

She's a smarty pants. She knows lots of colors and numbers and letters. She can identify most letters by sight. Numbers too, up to thirteen. Not sure why she's stopped at thirteen but whatever, she's just a big baby anyway.

Silly is relative

Animalia is wandering around, being busy, so I decide to unpack some diapers into the diaper stacker. She stops and stares. I start stacking them on my head. She giggles. "Silly mama," she says before she neighs and gallops away.

Happy Birthday to....

Animalia's latest joke is that she sings Happy Birthday to someone who isn't there. Or, when asked to sing Happy Birthday to someone specific, sings it to someone else. For example, when asked to sing Happy Birthday to Uncle, she sings Happy Birthday to April (Uncle's girlfriend). When asked to sing Happy Birthday to Daht, she sings Happy Birthday to Mama. And then she laughs. Because it's a joke. Get it?

Attitude-y

I asked Animalia where her zapatos were because I wanted to hear her say "Zapatos... wheeeeh aaaahhh youuuuu?" Instead, she sighed dramatically and said, "They're right there, Mama." And then she shrugged at me, all attitude, and walked away.

Help you?

2am. I wake up in pain. Back spasms. I try to stretch. Not working. 2:30am, I give. I take a muscle relaxant. Everyone else is fast asleep. I stay awake until I feel it working, then I crash.

7am. Animalia wakes up. "Maaaaamaaaaaaa, wheh aaahhhhh youuuuu?" Daht is still in bed, having stayed up late playing video games. I stumble to her camita, lift her out and into bed with me. She likes to sleep til 8, so maybe she'll fall back to sleep. I still feel the pill.

7:15am. Animalia is bouncing on and around us. We're barcos first, then horseys. Mama and Daht are still asleep.

7:30am. A tiny voice says "Mama help you?" I open one eye. Animalia is wedged in the narrow space between the wall and the bed. I can only see her from the shoulders up. She's giggling. "Mama help you?" she asks again. I manage to wake up and pull her out of the hole. She hugs and kisses. She also wants off the bed. I put her in her bedroom, immediately adjacent to our room, and she wanders away to play.

7:45am. I hear her tiny voice talking to her zapatos, putting on calcetines, talking to her dollies. Daht decides to wake up at this point. I struggle to open my eyes. He tells me that she's fine, they'll hang out together, go ahead and get some more sleep.

8:00am. Animalia has entertained herself for an hour. The struggle is over. Awake has won. "Mama help you?" is echoing in my mind. Guilt has won.

Animalia, creepy

Mother's intuition woke me up, sometime around 2 a.m.

Animalia's tiny voice said, "Niiiiiiinnnnaaaaaaaaaaa. Whehhh aahhhh yooouuuuuu?"

I checked on her. She was fast asleep.

Pain in the butt.

Nana was bothering Animalia, as per usual.

"Nana pain in the butt," Animalia said, under her breath.
Nana, shocked and apalled, asked the Animalia, "Did you just call Nana a pain in the butt?"
"No?" replied Animalia, somewhat confidently.

Later, as Nana was telling me this story I just knew. I just knew Animalia had said it and was trying to cover her own pain in the butt.

P.S. She learned the term "pain in the butt" from Nana. Reap what you sow, Nana. Reap what you sow.

What we mean to her:

Nana means papa, coloring, dancing, libros, going to the post office, shopping for fruits and vegetables and pan, baths, owies, and good mornings. Nana drives a brown(ish) car. Nana is called Nona Nana Mana (and various combinations of these things), Nans, Nanis, Nani, Nanitas.

Tata means horsey, help watering flowers, dancing, platanos, agua con hielo, and buenos dias. Tata drives a big white truck that's good for playing in. Tata is called Tatis, Tats, Tomás No Más, Tatati, Tatitas.

Daht means drawing, upside down, tickling, jumping in the bed, parks, dogs, hiding under the water, popsicles, cookies, fighting and blankets at night. Daht is called Daddy, Dad, Dah, Jimmy, and James.

Mama means sopita, arroz, pasta, bailando, playing piano, libros, "see you later, Nana," abrazos, and mimis. Mama's car is red. Mama is called mom, mami, mum, corazón, and Maya.

Uncle (Unko) means horsey and fixing it. Unko broke it. Unko also means huggables and lounging watching TV. Unko rides a bicycle.

Popsicles: Animalia manipulates (in three parts)

Part ONE:
One evening we pulled some Otter Pops out of the freezer. Animalia, as per usual, decided that she would be sharing with her Mama. She was happy until it was over. She looked over, noticed that Daht still had some and crawled across the couch to him. Mwahhhh! Mwahhhh! Abrazos, Daht. Aya love Daht. She crawled onto his lap and happily shared his remaining pop.

Part TWO:
The following evening. Same setup. Mama's pop is gone. Daht still has some. Animalia crawls over to him. Daht Aya's friend, she says. Friends. Aya want it. Friends? Her Daht is a sucker. He shares. She shivers with frio, as she knows Daht thinks this is adorable.

Part THREE:
Third night of Otter Pops. Again, same setup. This time, Aya tells Daht she will HELP him with his pop. Aya help Daht. Aya good girl. Aya helper.

Aya knows how to work her Daht. Aya has a sweet tooth.

This morning...

Animalia was counting the bars on the wrought iron outside my bedroom window. "One, two, three, four, five," she said, "and a SHINY PENNY!"

Where on earth does she get this stuff?

P.S. There was no shiny penny.

Tiny zapatos

I walked into Nana's for lunch. The first thing I noticed was Animalia, sitting in her high chair, happy as a clam. The second thing I noticed was her zapatos. Her toes were hanging over the front of these tiny white sandals. "I think those shoes are too small for her," I told Nana.
"I KNOW those shoes are too small," replied Nana, "but she found them and insisted on wearing them. She calls them her Tiny Zapatos. It was really funny when we took her to the May Day thing at the park and she danced around in them."
"You took her outside looking like that?!" I asked, appalled.
"She insisted," said Nana.
"Mama, look Aya's tiny zapatos," Animalia said happily.

A few days later she would find a tank top that no longer fits and insist on wearing her "tiny shirt."

¡Noches!

"Na-night, Nana.
Na-night, Tata.
Na-night, Daht.
Na-night, Cupo.
Na-night, Unko.
Na-night, Yito Yi.
Na-night, Yina.
Na-night, Nina.
Na-night, Mahnda.
Na-night, Deg.



Noches, Mama."





Goodnight, baby. Buenas noches.

No, kids!

This morning, the Animalia was reading a JCPenny ad. She focused on the children's pages, offering the kids in the picture her rubber ducky. "Here, kids. Pato!" she said happily. "Here you go, kids!" Apparently they were way too interested in her pato because after awhile she snatched it back, saying, "No, kids! Es Aya's Pato!"

Methinks we need to take expose her to more kids. Fighting with imaginary kids seems a little sadly hilarious, no?

Bucket and shovel

So the last time we saw the Animalia's bucket and shovel was on the beach in Puerto Peñasco. We'd put it on the sand while she climbed all over the barcos. Then, for some reason, she wanted to go to the agua and we walked away from it. I think later we probably walked right by the poor little bucket and the tiny little shovel and didn't remember them on the way back into the condo. ANYHOW, the first thing she asked for at Nana's house was the bucket and shovel. And then she said, "Cupo stole Aya's bucket! Cupo lost Aya's shovel! No, no babao! No!"

That's it, baby. Blame the dog.

Puerto Peñasco, Sonora, Mexico

Animalia's second beach vacation. April 23-27, 2009. In attendance: The Animalia (of course!), Mama, Daht, Mahnda, and Deg. Animalia got to see the ocean for the second time in her short life. She loved the "big agua" and the "big sandbox" and the swimming pool and the water slide and chile mango. She loved the barcos, her own and the rental canoes parked outside. She loved her swimsuit that she kept calling a suitcase. She loved her new vestido and bailando in her new vestido, along with her new zapatos and her bracelets and necklace. She also loved the happy cake (strawberries and whipped cream) that we had for dessert the first night and the frijoles at the restaurant on the cliff. She was a happy girl most of the time, until she saw another kid on her slide ("No, no, baby! Aya's slide!") or until I held her too long in the pool ("Aya DO IT!! No, no, mama!"). And she seemed pretty sad when she was really tired, which wasn't hard between the beach and the pool. But otherwise, she was very very happy.

First name basis

I always thought it was weird when kids called their parents by their first names. I still do. It seems a little disrespectful maybe, and certainly uncomfortable, like there's some kind of unnatural distance between parent and child or some strange order in their relationship. I was so uncomfortable with it that it was even hard for me to call my friends' parents by their first names when I was a kid. I just didn't know what to call them but first names seemed crazy and Mr. or Mrs. seemed too formal for my closest friends parents.


It is probably because of my childhood discomfort with this that the Animalia is apparently on a first name basis with us, her parents. Her nana thought it was funny when she'd ask "¿Quien es Maya?" and Animalia would point to me, her mama. Her nana also thought it was funny when she'd ask "¿Quien es Jimmy?" and the Animalia would point to her daht. So now, about half of the time when she calls us she calls us by our first names. It's a week bit heartbreaking as I prefer Mama, Mom, Mommy, and Mum-- the names she used to call me. Daddy used to always be Daht, Da, Daddy-- and now he's Jimmy. Not all the time but enough for me to purse my lips and have to do my best to completely ignore it.

Aya Ho-sey!

Animalia likes to crawl around on her hands and knees and pretend she's a horse. She says "Aya ho-sey!" as she crawls around and around and around the kitchen and through the dining room and into the kitchen and crawls around and around and around the living room. She wants her Daht to play with her but he won't when he's wearing shorts because he doesn't like his bare knees to touch the ground or some kind of nonsense like that. She's fine though, playing like this by herself. After playing horsey for awhile she'll get up and find her blocks or a book. She sits in the mini chair in the corner and reads to herself. Or she'll ask for her crayons and sit for awhile, coloring on her paper. She's very busy and independent and will occasionally put on her shoes, toss her backpack on her back, grab my keys and say, "Bye mom. Bye Daht." Then she walks away.

18 months?! Already?!

At her OFFICIAL 18 month checkup, the Animalia:

weighed 27 lbs, 8oz
was 32 1/2 inches tall
has a big round head
and screamed her head off at every opportunity.

When the nurse put her on the scale, she screamed. When she measured her, the Animalia wailed. When she took her temperature, someone walking by the room would have thought the Animalia was being beat with hot pokers. It is for this reason that both weight and height is probably off by a bit.

Then she calmed down. She introduced me to the doctor, mama. She introduced herself, Aya. She showed her doctor a stuffed bunny, bailando, bailando. And then the doctor touched her with a stethoscope and the screaming began anew.

I'm buying a play doctor kit. Clearly, we need to practice before the next appointment.

Happy! Cake!

The Animalia has a sweet tooth. It's not like she's had much in the way of processed sugars, but when she gets a taste of something sweet that isn't fruit, she goes nuts. But in a cute way, sort of, not in a crazy baby eyes wide open screaming way. A couple of nights ago, we had ice cream. The second she saw it she said, "CAKE! HAPPY!" I gave her a tiny little taste.
"HAPPY CAKE!" she said excitedly. And then she got all tense and shivered. A couple more tastes and she was done, or at least I was done and thought she should be done.
"Ya se acabó. No hay más," I told her.
"Aya happy?" she asked.
"Yes, Amalia, you're happy. But no more ice cream."
"Happy cake! Cake mas! Happy!" she cried in her very best sad toddler voice. She was trying to manipulate me for more happy cake. But I couldn't be had.

Still the Nina

The Animalia hands me my cell phone. "See Nina?" she asks. I find the picture.
"Nina!" she says in her very best husky queen voice.
"Platica con la Nina," I tell her.
"Nina, mama daddy house. Aya books y agua," she says.
"OK, es tiempo de decir bahbye a la Nina," I tell her.
"Bye, Nina! Mwahhhhhh! Mwahhhhhh!" she tells the picture.

I bet she doesn't actually recognize the Nina in real life next week.

For the Nina

Dear Nina,
Remember that time, just a few days ago, I asked you to send me a picture message with your picture? I wanted it to show the Animalia another, newer picture of you, so that she'd be up to date when you visit. I showed it to her the very next day. She said "Nina!" after I said "Nina!" Then I put my phone away. The Animalia waved and said, "Babye, Nina!"

The next day, all on her own, she found my phone and handed it to me. "Nina?" she asked. I found the picture. "Nina!" she said. And then she said, "mmmmmwwwwahhhh!" Again, she said, "Bye Nina," when I put the phone away.

One more day, and she clearly knows who you are. This last time she said, "Nina pretty," and petted your picture when she saw it.

Considering all this, and considering that you were all prettied up to go see Madonna the night you took the picture, you might want to do your hair and makeup before you see Animalia. So that she recognizes you. Just saying.

Love,
The Mama (of Animalia and no one else)

Apple Toes

About a week ago, the Animalia was playing with her Daht. "Apple toes," she said, or we think she said. There are two theories. Mine is that she was actually saying "elbow toes" because, in Animalia-speak, elbow and apple sound fairly similar. Daht's is "apple toes" because he thinks she was saying that her pieces of apple, left over from a snack, looked like toes. Either way, he started to say "Uh oh, apple toes!" right after she took a little tumble. And now, everytime she falls or throws herself, bouncing, on our bed, couch, or big fluffy pillows, she says,"Uh oh, apple toes!"

Me llamo Babao!

So we're back to her little joke, the one where we ask her name and sometimes she says Aya! And sometimes she says Aya Manos! And sometimes she says Babao and giggles. And then we tickle her and call her silly which prompts her fake laugh because one is supposed to laugh when anything is either "funny" or "silly." Occasionally her first name is Aya and her last name is Babao and then she barks at us or the real babao and she laughs and laughs.

Aya go pati?

Monday, March 16, sometime in the early a.m.:

Me: I need to go potty. Mama's going potty.
Animalia: Aya go pati?
Me: Do you want to go?
Animalia nods.

We go find her potty. It's in the kitchen, somewhat dismantled, because she was playing with it, and you know, potties go in the kitchen. I take it into the bathroom. She follows. I put it together, take off her pants and her diaper. I sit, she sits. I pee, SHE PEES! I freak out with total joy! I clap, she claps. "Aya go pati! YAY!" she says. I scream to her Daht to bring the camera. We take pictures. She's happy. We're happy. She flushes the big toilet on her own. She's very proud.


The next few days are filled with her using the potty, not exclusively, but enough for us to be shocked and awed. Our baby is so SMART. One day she doesn't quite make it to the potty but starts to go right before she sits down, peeing on her pants a little. She frowns and says,"Aya... uh oh!" And it's very cute and I smoosh her a little.

Then Thursday comes along and we ask her if she wants to go potty and she nods yes and she goes to the bathroom and I help her with her pants and diaper and she takes off her shirt and walks away. It was just a ruse to be naked. She does this naked thing a few times and I realize that she wasn't interested in potty training, she just wants to be naked. Any excuse.

Then comes yesterday. She says, "Aya popo," which means poop but I check her diaper and there's none in it. A few minutes later she does and she looks at me like,"Mum, I told you I needed to poop," and I feel a little bad but resolve to pay more attention. And then this morning she says "Pipis!" and I take her immediately to the potty, and she does!

She's a tender girl

The Animalia is sweeter than pie, sweet as candy, sugar, and all that stuff. She just is. And I wonder where this tender lovey personality came from because I'm just not. I guess I am, with her, but she's a dear. She'll randomly run up to her Daht and give him kisses, muah! muah! and will randomly throw her arms around her tata and say "HUG!" (only it sounds like hog, kind of). She makes her dolls and stuffed animals kiss each other. And when she's not ordering the dog around and telling him NO! she loves on him too.

Lately even her NOs are kind of sweet. "Noh, Nama, no," she says, no longer with the clipped urgency of her previous NOs. Those were abrupt NOs, they were short and with an exclamation point at the end. Her new NOs are soft explanations of what she doesn't like. "Noh, Dah," she'll say, when he's messing with her face. They're not eye-rolling NOs, not yet, and it's very cute.

Last night, when I got home, she saw me and said "MAMA!" and then she danced the way she dances when we give her something good to eat. And then she ran to me and threw her arms around my legs and said "Lahb!" which I think is LOVE.

She's a love.

Coco

Animalia pointed out my knees. "Mama knees," she said. Then she noticed the bruise. "Ooohhhh," she said, "Mama coco." And then she made a sad sound and petted me.

Time out

OOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhh.... my baby just had her first time out. She's really a big girl now.

According to her Nana, she was coloring on some blank paper. She paused, went and got a book (a lovely book with a girl named Maya in it), opened it and colored in the book. Nana stopped her but it was too late. The book was ruined. Nana showed her the book and pointed out the scribbles. She told her that books were not to be colored and had her sit in her little chair for a timeout. She sat and giggled. Nana explained that she was serious. So Animalia sat and slumped and made a sad face because she knew that Nana was serious.

That'll teach her.

Hot Babao?

So the Daht was telling me about an 18 month old who "used to eat hot dogs every day but lately she's been so picky!" and the Animalia picked up on two words... hot and dog. Now, the Animalia is totally mimicking us left and right lately, picking up on a word or two to repeat but this was classic. She said "Hot babao?" and we laughed and laughed because it was hilarious. And she laughed and laughed because she knew it was hilarious. And then she went to check on Cooper, to make sure he wasn't too hot.

Nana's baby

Are you the nana's baby? The Animalia nods vigorously.

Are you the mama's baby? The Animalia nods her tiny head.

Are you the tata's baby? She shakes her head no. He lifts her up and says that of course she's his baby and she shakes her head again with a little smile on her face.

Are you da's baby? She nods once. Shakes her head back and forth once. Moves her head in a noncommittal circle.

She knows how to play all of us. Like a violin.

Castigando

The scene: The Animalia is playing outside. A large orange tabby approaches. She is excited. She starts to wave to him.

Animalia (in her best, most softest, nicest drag voice): Hi! Meow! Hi!
Cat: Meow?
Animalia: Hi! Meow! Nice. Nice. Hi! Meow!

The cat evaluates the situation. Animalia's tiny hands are like little squeezy weapons. He hesitates.

Animalia (doing the reaching out thing): Meow. Nice.

The cat decides the best course of action is to slowly move away from the desiring hands of the tiny, dangerous child.

Animalia: ¡NO! ¡NO! ¡NO MEOW!

Thus, the cat is put on notice but remains safely unsqueezed and unsmooshed for another day.

Sharing is caring OR Food is love OR Mama couldn't share til baby came along

A few years ago, 2004 I think, I, along with the Da (before he was the Da) and the Tío Tío (before he was the Tío Tío) went on a trip to visit the Nina (before she was the Nina). One night, after some drinking, we ate at this place called the Diner. It was delicious and fantastic and they had something called the Croque and Dagger. It's kind of a take on the Croque Monsieur but different. I didn't finish this Croque and Dagger, but it was delicious, so I took a box back to the Nina's place. When we got there, I hid it in the back of the fridge. I knew that the Da would eat it if he woke up before I did and it was too good to share. We all fell asleep.

In the very early morning, I woke up. Everyone else was still asleep. I had to eat it, my Croque and Dagger. I figured I had a tiny bit of time before he woke up and I had to share. So I heated it, shoveled it down, threw away the container, and fell back asleep. I woke up later and he was already awake. "I looked for your Croque and Dagger," he said, "and I couldn't find it." "HAHAHAHA!" I laughed, "I knew you would, so I hid it, then woke up in the middle of the night and ate it so I wouldn't have to share!"

Here's the thing... sometimes I really really like something, as in a food something, and I know if I don't eat it, he will and then I'll want it later and he'll say he ate it and I'll be irritated. It's all completely insane, I know.

So you may be asking why this post is here instead of a dysfunctional relationship blog. Well, here's the thing: I used to hate to share my food. And now I share it every single day. With the Animalia. And I don't even care. Because she's tiny and she NEEDS food. And she LOVES food. I love to hear that food-related giggle and excitement. I love that she loves the good stuff, vegetables and brown rice and sushi and sopita and frijoles and pan and curry and pasta.

This is a testament to the love I have for my daughter. And the ridiculousness that is my relationship with her Da. Poor him.

A tantrum that I love

Yes, there is a certain type of tantrum that gives me the giggles. The Animalia yells. She gently tumbles to the floor. She rolls halfheartedly back and forth. She realizes that the wood floor is slipperly against her pants. Then she starts sliding herself backward and forward, like a snake. She realizes that I'm cracking up. She makes a slightly angry noise at me for laughing at her. She hates that, when people laugh at her anger. She slides herself around the floor a minute. She stops, seeming to reconsider her tantrum. She makes one last halfhearted scowl and grunt. She's happy sliding around. And then she gets up and goes about her business like she wasn't throwing a tantrum in the first place.

¡No, Elmo!

Me: ¿Que 'stas haciendo?
Animalia: Abacoadabashabi Elmo
Me: ¿Y luego que pasó?
Animalia: (nodding) kishiconabowa Nana Tata.
Me: Oooohhhh. ¿Y despues?
Animalia: cacowi vrroooom vroom babao. ¡Elmo! ¡NO!

I think Elmo, you know, her best friend, was getting on her nerves.

Other babies milestones

Whenever a baby younger than the Animalia reaches a milestone and jubilant parents text, call, email or otherwise communicate it, I can't help but recall the Animalia's milestones. The lovely and squeezable baby Lito prompted this little stroll down memory lane by rolling over last night. He's very excellent this baby Lito and him rolling over made me do a little squeee! in my head.

I'm not sure the actual date when the Animalia first rolled over-- it was pre-mianimalia.blogspot.com, so I'll have to check the nearly blank baby book. I think it's at my mom's.

Anyhow, the first time the Animalia rolled over, she was on the little mat of her play gym at Nana's house. She was smiling at her toys and then she reached over, kind of twisted her legs around each other, and she was over. She was on her tummy. It was effortless, like she'd been doing it the whole time, like it was no big deal. Then she didn't do it again for a few weeks. When she started rolling over again, it was back and forth and forth and back and again, no big deal. The funny thing is that even though I don't remember the date, even though it was more than a year ago, I remember almost every little detail about that time. It was amazing and it all continues to be amazing, watching her learn to crawl, then walk, listening to her chatter turn slowly into words, watching her first smile turn, a little later, into full on laughter. It makes me feel all squishy inside.

These babies, they're amazing.

More words!

So the Animalia is the chattiest lately. Yesterday, I was reading her a book of her own choosing, a Sesame Street Christmas book, and I asked her where Bert was and she pointed to him and said "Buht." And then I asked her where the estrella was, you know, on the Christmas tree, and she pointed to it and said "Staw." Hysterical.

In other news, we all have the most lovely, hacking, coughing, runny nose COLDS! STILL! It all started last Wednesday so we're going on almost a week of this loveliness. This is very exciting as I just love to deal with a sick baby and sick husband and sick me all at once. It's like my dream job.

Chatty McChatterson she is

It's true. The Animalia has continued to become a chatterbox of incredible proportions. She's huge, chatting-wise, not really enormous physically (though she is tall, just not wide). In the last week or so we've heard a million new words. Or so.

Panta (pansa), moush (mouth), nose, babao papa (dog food), petatos (zapatos), toalla/tahwoh (towel), Elma (the name she's given to one of her dolls that is dressed in red like Elmo), aaaaahhhp (up), daahhhun (down). There are more but I can't seem to remember them right now, probably since I should be working instead of blogging. She is also adorably doing more and more of the motions to both Wheels on the Bus and Itsy Bitsy Spider, English and Spanish versions.

Some of these exaggerated spellings are feeble attempts to illustrate how exaggerated she actually says certain words, mostly English ones. I don't know why this is, or why she upspeaks a lot of the time. It's either because we speak more exaggeratedly in English. Or that she's Brit-tish. Not sure.

Krishna

One of my coworkers thinks Animalia looks like a baby Krishna. She showed me a postcard that she's had for years and I really couldn't argue with her. This isn't the picture, but the closest I could find to it (too lazy to power up the ol' scanner). Anyhow, you get the idea. I have to say, after seeing the picture she showed me, I really couldn't argue.

The Animalia in DC

The Animalia chasing pigeons on the Mall a few days after the Inauguration.

There were several spectators and other paparazzi.

Oh Inauguration!

The Animalia, she was, as per usual, excellent on the flights both to and from Washington, DC. Changing flights in Dallas, we even got the ultimate compliment-- "We didn't even know there was a baby on the flight!" "Thank you, thank you," I said, as if it were all my doing. I guess my baby, seasoned traveler that she is, just loves to fly. Thank the lord.

We got there in the middle of the night and once we got to the Nina's brand-spanking-new apartment, The Animalia spotted the air mattress and threw herself upon it. She was exhausted.

We woke up the next morning, and the Animalia, not getting nearly enough sleep, wailed like I was stabbing her with a hot poker. She wailed as I put on her many layers of clothing. She wailed when I put on her very-necessary-for-several-hours-in-20-degree-cold snowsuit. She screamed when I put on her warm cozy boots. It was a tight fit getting her in the sling, both of us layered, but we made it.

Then we waited in line. And the Animalia fell asleep. She was asleep through the wait, she was asleep through most of it. She was even asleep when the crowd cheered as President Obama took the oath of office. She was asleep. But the baby, she was there, something that we'll tell her when she's older and she reads about it in school. She was there.

Later, we ended up at Mr. Henry's for mmmmm papas! She ate turkey vegetable soup with gusto, my poor tired baby. Then we went to the Nina's old place, full of people, and the poor tired baby let the very energetic Peanut boss her around. "¡No en el piso! ¡Es sucio!" The Peanut told her as she slumped exhaustedly on the floor. She did, however, briefly energize when The Peanut brought a box, probably from the trash, and ordered her "Tiralo." And Animalia did. And she was happy.

Slightly nervous about the trip.

We're crazy. CRAZY. We're taking the baby to the Inauguration. LIKE MANIACS, WE'RE CRAZY.

We fly in the night before, actually early morning before, as our flight gets there at 12:30AM! BECAUSE WE'RE CRAZY. And not at all crazy like foxes, more like crazy like crazy people.

Can't wait to see the Animalia all dressed up for WINTER though. AND WHEN I SAY WINTER I MEAN THE KIND OF COLD THAT NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T TAKE THEIR SMALL CHILDREN TO. ONLY CRAZY PEOPLE DO THAT. JUST LIKE ONLY CRAZY PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT THEIR INSANITY IN THEIR BLOGS IN ALL CAPS LIKE YELLING. CRAZY PEOPLE!

Mou!

Me: Animalia, enseñame la rodilla.
Animalia points appropriately.

Me: ¿Y donde está tu nariz?
Again, she shows me.

Me: ¿Y que hace la doctora?
Animalia pokes her thigh and then whimpers. (Poor baby, I feel bad but also this is funny.)

Me: ¿Y que haces quando la doctora quiere ver la boca?
Animalia: AHHHHHHHH

Me: ¿Y donde esta la boca?
Animalia points and then says "mou?" (pronounced mau)
Me: Boca.
Animalia: Mou.
Me: Boca.
Animalia: MOU!
Me: If you insist.

I knew she'd speak English sooner or later. I was hoping just a little that it would be later. Because I'm terrible.

Time flies

I can't believe we're here already. 2009. By the end of this year, I'll be the mother of a 2 year old. Weird.

The Animalia is now fifteen months old.

In addition to the many things she says and does, she has started to say the word pato. This word is used for platano, zapato, and also pato. It takes me a minute sometimes to figure out if she wants the banana, the shoe or the duck. We'll get it down sometime. She's also started saying manos and clapping as she says it. Cute. She also knows sientate, acuestate, and parate, knows that her zapetas go in the basura, is figuring out the whole potty concept and all of a sudden will tell you what ratoncitos say in her tiniest voice. That's in the running for my new favorite cute thing. Oh, except for when she does Itsy Bitsy Spider/Arana Pequenita. WITH THE HAND MOTIONS! SO CUTE I WANT TO SQUEEZE HER AND BITE HER. Note to self: must learn to do diacritics on laptop.

And she's big. Officially, she's 32 inches tall and 25 pounds. Her head is a whopping 42 cm around... much much bigger than when she was born. It was 16 1/2 cm then, kid you not, and we just thought her head was going to be tiny, like mine. Well, we were wrong. I think it's the gods telling me I was an expletive for teasing the Nina about her big head. And now I have a baby with a big head. Baby hats don't fit her anymore. She's in toddler hats now, thank you very much, not that she'll keep a hat on to save her life, but still.