Everybody's a Critic

One of Monkey's Christmas presents from Grandma L was a book of songs and an accompanying cd (with recorded versions of what the songs are supposed to sound like, as opposed to my warbling renditions).

While the cd has been used a few times, the book is in very heavy circulation. Most nights, Monkey will find the book and present it to me, asking me to sing to her.

So I sing.

She'll flip open the book to a page, and I'll start singing whatever song is there (with some exceptions of truly unsingable songs, which I ignore). Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old McDonald, Bingo, Sleep Baby Sleep, Hickory Dickory Dock, It's raining, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so on. All the classics are there.

The only problem? Half the time, I'll be only a few refrains into the song and Monkey will blurt out "No, no, noooo..." and change the page.

Everybody's a critic.

My DNA made me do it

Do you think a predisposition to shoes is genetic?

That an affinity to shopping can be inherited?

Is it possible that your DNA will direct you to take every single shoe off of the wall at a shoe store and chortle "shooze!" at the top of your lungs, repeatedly and with animation, until you have spent almost 45 minutes focused on that task (a lifetime in toddlerville!)?

Can genetics offer us a window into the mechanism that prompts you to select pink and silver shoes with flowers on them?

If so, modern science, meet my daughter.

hug?

I just put Monkey to bed. We read Corduroy 4 times, and then I put her into her crib with her blankie, her monkey stuffed animal, and her water bottle. 

I moved to turn off the reading lamp, and after I extinguished the light I heard Monkey's sweet little voice pop up into the dark air....

"hug?"

She wanted a hug from mama. So I leaned over the side of her crib where she was standing, and gave her a hug. She reached her arms around me and patted my back. And then she said "bye bye." My job was done for the night. I'd been dismissed, in the most wonderful of ways. 

I love that little girl. 

Who's in charge?

Monkey and Ollie have developed a new rapport. 

Ollie, for one, is much more tolerant of Monkey, and most of the time doesn't mind when Monkey pets her. Ollie will even approach Monkey to sniff her, and joins her on the living room carpet rug, close to the action. It is really endearing so see Ollie accepting her - especially considering what a rocky start they got (Ollie got depressed after Monkey was born and almost died).

Monkey not only is gentler with Ollie when she pets her, but also now clearly is aware of what Ollie is doing. And sometimes, she doesn't approve. 

That's when we'll hear Monkey bark out "Ollie, SIT down." (She's very imposing, that one!)

Ollie usually licks a paw, if she reacts at all. 

We think it is hilarious that Monkey is bossing around the cat! 

Sand Angel

Friday Monkey went back to the pediatrician to follow up on her upper respiratory viral infection and resulting inhaler - and got the BEST report I could hope for - "clear lungs." Phew! With asthma in the family (both sides) and living near Harlem that has the highest rate of asthma in the city, I was worried. So, for now, relief. And, after tonight - no more inhaler! Whee!!!!!

After the appointment with the doctor (which ended about 3:30pm), Monkey and I walked home through the park. With a 2 hour detour in a sandbox. Yes, two FULL hours in the sandbox. It was a perfect sunny day, 80 degrees out, slight wind, and no humidity. Exactly the kind of weather you want, and rarely get, at least here in NYC. 

The sandbox was a hit. Monkey had fun playing by herself, and also with others. From time to time she would approach other kids and hand them a toy - as if to say here, take this, enjoy. She's become very social that way and it is fascinating to me. I attribute it to the montessori daycare. 

Monkey was so completely filthy that at one point I took off her shirt, and shook it upside down to get (most of) the sand out of a pocket. And then yes, put that filthy shirt back on her....after all, she was going right back into the sand! 

M wasn't with us - he was winging his way to Nebraska to bury his grandpa Bernie Hoerle. Rest in peace, Grandpa. We'll miss you. We were really sad to hear that he passed away Wednesday morning - but since it was unexpected, he didn't suffer through a long illness. And at almost 88 years of age, he'd lived a long, full life.

I was thinking about this, about life & death, as I sat in the brilliant sun and watched my beautiful daughter play in the sand - full of life, healthy and happy. Monkey was on her back throwing sand into the air, and started making snow (ok, sand) angels. I thought "how appropriate" to make an angel....