This past week I met dad’s mom and dad.
Seeing each other in person for the first time.
They pretty much adore me.
I shall call him GP. And he shall be mine.
We spent some of Easter in a place called the Boston Commons. It didn’t seem so common to me.
Uncommon Easter.
It was wonderful to see them this week. I got to be spoiled in person rather than from afar. Getting spoiled is always fine with me, but in person is just so much better. Love you guys!
I got him this mug.
But he still won’t let me play solitaire on his iPhone.
I usually get my way. This confounds me. So much for bribery.
Sometimes after my bath I like to bust out my favorite soprano aria. This is best done while in just a diaper and Mozart wig.
I am an American Girl, too.
Mom and her friends were swooning over these dolls, who are all owned by a lucky little fifth grade girl. They are called American Girl Dolls, and seem to hold some magical charm over their owners.
Apparently I already have one named Molly that is waiting for me in storage. I was told I had to turn 8 or learn to stop drooling all over my toys, whichever comes first, before I will be allowed to play with this Molly and her collection.
But for now, I will just enjoy looking like an American Girl Doll.
I met an older boy yesterday.
You are about my size, mister.
Nice to meet you.
Wow. How do you smile that big?
He seems like a pretty nice guy. He just smiled at me while I babbled non stop at him and then I poked him in the eye. The adults in the room joked that some things never change.
Oh, and yes– that is Aunt L, but that is not her baby! Baby A belongs to another lovely friend of theirs, Miss T. I hope we meet up with them more in the future. He is a good listener, and those baby blues aren’t too bad, either.
Mom tried to explain to me something called Daylight Saving Time.
So, one hour of the day magically disappears in the spring and reappears in the Fall?
Okay.
I don’t understand why this affects me. I just go to bed at my normal time, and wake up at my normal time. Mom said something about being annoyed that she lost an hour. Well, I don’t know why she is so upset. From what she just told me, she will find it again in the fall.
Auntie Gwennie was here for a visit. She is really great, and it was nice to see her.
She knit me this romper.
She takes me on scenic power walks.
I love my Auntie Gwennie.
Yesterday we went on a family adventure to the art museum. Here I am in front of the museum.
“What is this, a museum for ants? How can children view art if they can’t even fit inside the building? The building needs to be at least…. three times bigger!”*
Well, I am relieved to tell you that this is just a model of Liebeskind’s famous building. It is actually much bigger, much more wacky and full of a lot of art.
My favorite painting was The Violin by Lichtenstein. Mom read into that a bit too much… I just liked that it was black and white and interesting. I didn’t know it was of a violin until she told me the title. I am probably not the only one.
*No, I have not seen this movie, it would be inappropriate for someone of my age.
Today mom gave a small recital, and I enjoyed it so much. It was the perfect lullaby for my nap.
The oboe is taller than I am. How disconcerting.
That thing in my mom’s hand is called an oboe. I heard it for months before I ever saw it, and it seems much louder than it did when I couldn’t see it.
See this smile on my face?
So happy. (Yes, I know I scratched my forehead.)
I currently have many reasons to smile, but over the weekend I did not.
See, mom puts me in cloth diapers. It has become her new hobby, well, obsession, really. She does all the washing with special detergents, line drying in the sun, and fancy folds that these diapers require. However, sometimes things can go terribly wrong.
That is my face when I think about how bad things were this weekend.
When urine breaks down, it creates ammonia as a by-product. When diapers don’t get quite clean enough, the ammonia builds up and can cause a burn on the skin. Yes. A burn. The nastiest sort of diaper rash.
I was hurting pretty badly, I was bright red, and I was very cranky.
So this happened.
While mom did this.
Boiling the diapers can get out all the build up. In cloth diapering terms, this is called “stripping” the diapers. Mom likes to think she is part of a long lineage of women who have boiled cloth diapers.
I have been slathered in ointments, and the redness is gone.
Mom still feels pretty terribly about the whole thing. She is glad I am better. Me too.