We’re kissing January 2010 goodbye and ushering in the era of the 19-month old. Emma’s vocabulary continues to grow at an amazing pace, as does her independence. This is evidenced by her frequent utterings of “I’ll get it” and “I come too.” Her cookie-nabbing skills are as sharp as ever and she was recently introduced to pizza at school, where she has moved up to the toddler room and now participates in such mature activities as yoga and music lessons.
Snow’s an altogether too rare thing in Philadelphia. Veterans of past Philadelphia winters–as distinct from veterans of Valley Forge winters, who were evidently hip deep in snow and revolutionary politics, and are now, according to reliable sources, dead–Veterans of past Philadelphia winters, as I say, talk of snow as if it were a rare astronomical event, as infrequent and as fleeting as the return of Haley’s comet.
This paucity of snowfall in the City of Brotherly Shove is lamentable, especially because Emma loves snow so much. We were lucky then to get a wet couple inches on New Year’s Eve, while Grandma was visiting. Before relaxing with Grandma at one of the seedier Clark Park playground bars (pictured below), Emma helped me throw snowballs at plane trees, trash cans and sign posts. Her technique is unique: a slow careful scoop, a quick crush in her mittened hands, and a wild fling of snow into the faces of any daddies stupid enough to squat nearby.
Emma Liv in the tub.
And who do you think she had there?
Her mommy, her daddy,
rubber ducks in a caddy.
Twas enough to make Muishka cat stare.
My cell phone is, by far, the most loathed accoutrement of my fellowship. Being available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, would take a toll on anyone, regardless of how urgent (or sometimes, very non-urgent) the needs of those trying to reach you. Remarkably, Emma usually takes this distraction in stride and has even volunteered to triage my calls.
Of course, you can never be sure she’s going to show up dressed for the job. Think about that the next time you call your doctor at home on the weekend!
Before our week took a turn for the worse (two looming work deadlines for Andrew, a busy heme consult service with long days for me, and viral gastroenteritis (otherwise known as the night of a thousand bedsheets) for Emma), I had the opportunity to make a large pot of tomato sauce. Here we see Emma learning the joy of dipping good italian bread into a bowl of fresh sauce. Ultimately, the sauce got us through the week.
From our Sunday afternoon dance party (which routinely follows no-pants Saturday):
The album was Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the snacks included yogurt and graham crackers, and during Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, we danced with an orange aardvark. A good time was had by all.
Emma Livia was born 18 months ago today. Although as an 18 month old she’s consumed by her studies in Seuss and yogurt, Emma’s taken on some light secretarial work to put aside some extra cash. It’s mostly tedious, as when she has to screen calls on the bubble phone, but that cash will come in handy when she catches her parents at a weak moment and offers to pay half the costs for the puppy she wants.
This chair, which started out life as Andrew’s Grandma Betsy’s little red chair sometime in the early 1920s, has now reliably seated 3 generations of little girls. At some point it was repainted yellow and a few of the slats are a bit loose, but Emma loves it all the same.
One of our stops in Ann Arbor was a boutique pet shop–as requested by Emma–to buy fancy dog bones for Mel. A friendly yellow lab named Jake showed us right to the good stuff, and Emma carefully selected two very fine bones indeed. She thought about feeding the bones to Grandpa, but then decided that Mel would probably appreciate the gift more.
