The object of this game...

...is to get as many celery stalks as possible in one little cup of peanut butter. (sorry Ava is so green, the light didn't agree with my treo camera!)

One and twenty months

My big little girl,

Where do I begin to tell the story of my big little girl who is now one and twenty months? As Winnie the Pooh would say, I should start at the beginning and go until I've reached the end. I am quoting Pooh, of course, because I just read to you from The House At Pooh Corner. As I read aloud those last few sentences in the first chapter, you rolled over on your side with your back towards me and fell asleep. No binky, no baby eye-sty, just peacefully, blissfully asleep.

Binky, binky, binky! We hear that a lot these days, so much that we're cutting back to naptime and bedtime for the binky. We want to hear what you have to say! You do have a lot to say these days, you've begun to put two words together into not quite sentences but at least ardent commands. "Bye-bye kitty-cat" is still around, with lots of Mommys and Daddys to follow. You love saying zebra and owl and ball. You love balls of all shapes and sizes.

You are such a pleasure to be around. Tonight before reading and night-night time we played with legos (gegos). You've taught me to enjoy building tall lego structures even if they don't have proper rooms and doorways. I built the base and then hastily filled in the blanks so your additions were stable. Then we tore down the structure and put it all back in the lego box.

We played a bunch of rounds of our favorite game: Boom! To play Boom! we take your nine animal blocks and 26 alphabet blocks and stack them as high as we can. Then I say, "Make it go Boom!" You touch the middle and all the blocks go tumbling down. We both laugh becuase this is quite hysterical and then we pile them up to do it again.

You love to take baths and especially love bubbles. We start bathtime with the plummet of the ducks and frog and our ritual naked baby dance. When you're in the bathtub you love to drink bathwater out of little cups. I don't quite get this, but I have no complaints. You also love to pour water from one little cup into another.

You sing row, row, row and merrily, merrily, merrily for Row, Row, Row Your Boat song. You sing e-i-e-i-o at the appropriate places in Old MacDonald Had a Farm. You just started to sing round and round for the Wheels on the Bus song.

The best of all though is that you sing e-f-g-h-i-j-k of the Alphabet Song, and have been even heard to sing lmnop or therebouts. You sing this either when someone starts with a-b-c-d or when you walk up to the refrigerator and point at the magnetic alphabet letters. Daddy and I think you're brilliant.

After we took down the Christmas tree and put the green chair in its place you started a new entertaining habit of saying Bye! Bye! and then hiding behind the transparent curtain (partially hidden behind the green chair) until someone says either "Bye Bye" or "Come back, we miss you!" Then you reveal yourself from behind the curtain giggling and then walk back around to do it again.

You still get upset whenever Daddy sits next to me or is within three feet of me. We try to explain that it's a good thing. You want happy parents as divorced parents are not fun in the slightest, but alas, you're not buying that yet. Someday, we hope, to cuddle on the couch without you whining in the corner or trying to pull us apart. Your Daddy swears he will remember this and do the same to you when you bring a boyfriend home.

While I'm on the subject, I have to note that on New Year's Eve you were spotted on your couch leaning over to your friend Jack, lips puckered so he could kiss you. I saw it, Jack's mom saw it, and I only wish we had a camera.

Happy twenty-one month birthday, my big little girl. You are a joy and every day I think how lucky I am to be your Mommy.

Many ways to eat a pb&j sandwich

Hi little one,

After all of the cookies you've eaten over the last three days, today we went back to basics with a pb&j sandwich. Sprouted barley bread, natural PB, and strawberry fruit spread sweetened with juice.

I added a cup of milk (muk!) and walked away for a few minutes as you started eating. You picked up an isosceles triangle of sandwich, dipped it in your milk, sucked the milk out of the sandwich and then ate it.

I've been around a while, but I've never heard of eating a sandwich quite that way before.

Now you are soaking your nails in the milk, which really isn't necessary as you have unbreakable nails already.

I love you.
Mommy

Way-va's Second Christmas

Hi my little love,

As we could have predicted, you made out like a bandit this Christmas. Your Auntie Susi and Uncle John spoiled you with sparkly new pj's, play-doh in abundance and a fabulous Mister Potato Head. Your Grandma Bear spoiled you utterly and completely with toys, books, and clothes to last until high school. Not really, but at least to last until you're three. Her best idea though was from Build A Bear. She built you a lavendar teddy bear that says in her voice:

"Ava, this is Grandma Bear, and I...love...you." I was instructed to play it to you every night before you go to sleep so she knows your voice.

Last night we were at Great-Grandpa Jerry's for the every other year traditional Edson family Christmas. You had fun running around the house, and I had fun not worrying about what kind of trouble you would find. You love playing with your cousins and following around the bigger girls. All of my aunts and uncles were impressed by how independent you are and yet always seem to know where Mommy is.

This Christmas has been my best ever. Last night I had you and your Daddy with me in Sacramento. We went to five houses and sang carols to the neighbors. Yes, when your Great Grandma Susie was around we would have sang to twenty houses all the way down the block, but this time it was five. I don't know what it is about caroling that brings tears to my eyes, but caroling means Christmas to me. We open our hearts and our voices join together in an imperfect harmony and we share love with others. We give a gift so big that it can't be measured in dollars and packaged in brightly wrapped boxes.

This year I got to share the experience with you and Daddy, not to mention Grandma Bear, Great Grandpa Jerry, your aunt, uncle, and cousins, and the rest of our noisy festive bunch.

Then after caroling we opened presents to each other, followed by nibbling on all of the baked delights our family is so good at making. Then, came the time honored tradition of the gift exchange.

Each grown up brings a gift priced at about $25, wrapped brightly. We cut up the numbers of an old calendar and each take a number to determine our ordering. Number one picks a gift. Number two can steal number one's gift or take a new one. New rules this year eliminated family collusion and stealing of the same gift more than once by any single person.

I'm delighted to say that your Daddy's exchange gift was the hottest item. It also helped that there were two of them.

I'm sure some day you will experience the overwhelming love and magic that I have in the last twenty four hours.

For now, you've opened your gifts from Daddy and I, including a fabulous art easel and a wooden tool box. We spoiled you a little, but not as much as everyone else!

The way I see it, as I told your Daddy, if you weren't such a fabulous little girl, you wouldn't be spoiled so much!

But I better make breakfast for the three of us before we need to leave for our friends' house for dinner today.

I love you sweet girl. Merry Christmas.

Boo-bah and Baby Eye-sty

Hi my sweet girl,

You are rapidly toddling your way into being two years old. Sure, you have just shy of four months to go, but the intermittent tantrums have arrived as well as many new words.

The tantrums, they come without warning and cannot always be tied to exhaustion or starvation. Sometimes they are just because. As long as I am well rested and not hungry myself, they don't bother me much. I can nearly always (with exceptions noted above) let you have your tantrum without trying to fix it or get angry about it. After all, it's not about me.

You have fallen in love, head over heels, with Baby Eye-sty. For those not familiar with toddler vocabulary, this means Baby Einstein videos.

"Baby eye-sty," you say, pointing at the TV. "Baby eye-sty!!!" you exclaim, when you find the video case.

Grandma Bear doesn't know what kind of favor she did us when she gave you those videos before you were born. They entertained you when you were three months old, but now they are a big, BIG hit. They entertain you so well now that I use them to relax you before bedtime. They are the only thing I know of, besides tortillas (tee-ahs!) that guarantee your complete attention.

I like them for that reason, but also because they're helping with your vocabulary. From Baby Galileo you've learned to recognize and say moon, star, sun, planet, and cloud. From Baby Doolittle you've learned dog, cat, cow, sheep, pig, and mouse. From Baby Van Gough you've learned to paint masterpieces. Not really, but it sounded good, didn't it?

There are more, but I want to tell you about boo-bah.

Boo-bah.

No, it's not that strange fuzzy toy I saw advertised last Christmas. Anyone in our studio audience have a guess as to what it is?

Give up?

You'll never guess. I swear.

Okay, I'll tell.

Toothbrush. Boo-bah is your name for toothbrush.

You love brushing your teeth. You tolerate me brushing your teeth as long as you get to hold a second toothbrush, and when I'm done, you get to brush my teeth.

We have a deal, you and I. In the morning you brush your own teeth. At night, I do it.

This week you got upset after I brushed your teeth because you saw me flossing my teeth and wanted some of that too. Yes, at nearly 21 months old, you wanted your teeth flossed. If I'm not careful you get floss out of the garbage (yuck!) so now I give you some floss and you diligently put it between your teeth. I make sure I put used floss in the big kitchen garbage so you don't go after it.

Again you are many steps ahead of me. It took me until three months ago to start flossing my teeth every day and you have started before your second birthday.

Boo-bah and Baby Eye-Sty. These are the center of your world.

I love you sweet girl. In a few days I'll tell you about your second Christmas.

Mommy

Not exactly what Clinique had in mind

You discovered my Clinque Angel Red lipstick, although I doubt it was intended to be eyeshadow.

Picture time!

I just noticed there have been no pictures in ages, so here goes...

Ava has figured out how to get around being vertically challenged.














Ava putting on her overalls, not exactly the right way.















Ava in her party dress and beads, next to the bathtub.















Ava playing with sand at the beach.

Bye-bye kitty-cat

Hi my little love,

You are saying lots of words now, so many I've lost count. What your Daddy and I love the most though is when we're leaving the house you turn to look inside and wave, saying "Bye-bye kitty cat."

You say this predictably every time we leave and many other times throughout the day. Bye bye kitty cat.

Where did you get this? Do I say goodbye to the cats when I leave in the morning? It seems extremely important to you that you tell the cats goodbye before you leave. After all, they need to know. Now that you're leaving they can fully relax and take that big nap they had planned for after your departure.

If this is the case, I can understand. It's quite considerate of you to tell the cats we're leaving.

Unagi started sleeping under the Christmas tree shortly after its arrival. It took you a couple days to find her, but now you love pointing out the kitty cat under the tree. Sorry Unagi, obviously you can run but you can't hide from a motivated toddler.

The Christmas tree...in a stroke of complete luck, Daddy brought home a bunch of unbreakable ornaments this year. The tree wasn't decorated enough with my stash of ornaments once all of the breakable ones hung well above your reach, and he happened upon a package that turned out to be unbreakable.

This is fortunate for us because of you and the cats. You love to take the ornaments off the tree and put them into a box we left out for that purpose. We're not dummies, we know what your plans are when you see bright shiny objects at your height.

We also know the cats, who are likely teenagers in cat years but still entertained (like a certain toddler we know) by the sight of those same bright shiny balls dangling in front of them.

What we didn't predict, however, is that you would take one of those bright shiny balls and hold it out for Unagi to hit like a punching bag.

I didn't witness this, Daddy did, and although is imagination is fertile I doubt he made it up.

I want to tell you about the toddler holiday party we attended tonight, about how you played well with all of the toys, surprisingly didn't play with the shiny glass balls on their tree, ate well, and somehow didn't cry at all until we were on the way home and your foot got caught in the handle on a paper bag.

As for the party, if I held up the romper room magic mirror I would have said...
"I see Katie and Ellie, Amy and Jack, Katie and Luke, Victoria and Ian, and Sadia and Zoya..." not to mention all the babies to come that are currently hanging out in their Mommy's tummy!

Having six toddlers in one place guarantees chaos but the party was indelibly fun and the food was sumptuous. Thank you all for being our friends!

As for you, Miss Ava, you fell asleep in the car while I was singing Christmas carols so you wouldn't cry. You barely woke when I changed you into pajamas at home and put you into bed.

Sleep well, my love, and night night kitty cat.

Twenty months old

Hi my sweet girl,

This morning we went for the same walk we took every day when you were brand new. We would start at our house and go up, up, up to McLaren park, swoop down over the foot bridge, back up by the sandbox with cement turtles, past the old and wise eucalyptus trees and back down home.

We haven't done this walk in a long time, and I've missed it.

You're getting bigger by the day. Sure, you're small, in the fifth percentile small, but with such giants for parents I don't expect a WNBA player out of you. You eat well and you've got baby fat in all the right places and your new doctor insisted you looked just right.

Thank heaven I came to my senses and dumped your old doctor who always made me feel lower than pond scum.

But this is about you, walking head on into your twentieth month tomorrow. You say new words every day - this morning we were practicing our animal words: dog, cat, mouse, cow, pig, zebra, giraffe, bear, sheep and elephant. Okay, you can't say elephant yet, but you can say the rest of them!

What amazes me completely is that you know the difference between all these animals. How is it you can differentiate between a cat and a dog? They both have four legs and furry bodies, there are small dogs that are about the size of a cat, yet you know which is which. How?

Speaking of cats, Unagi has started sleeping with you at night. I don't know if you're keeping her warm or vice versa, but it's wonderful to see Unagi curled up at your feet. This morning you woke up happy and when Daddy went in your room, he said you were playing with the cat.

You play "tag" with the cats on a regular basis - lumbering towards them and then running away with shreaks of laughter when they come back at you.

The other day you amazed my waxing lady by signing please when you wanted me to read your book again. "She knows sign language?!" Sofia marveled.

"Ava knows a few signs, just enough to fill in the blanks for words." For once, little one, I felt like I could be a candidate for Mom of the Year.

The other day I brought your Daddy a plate of cookies I just baked. You stole his last cookie and ate it when he wasn't looking.

He asked you, "Ava, where are the cookies?"

You looked at the plate and signed "all done!" I can see your sense of humor is developing at a good rate.

You're starting to figure out how to jump. You bend your knees and bounce a bit, but you haven't worked out the gravity restrictions. You like to bounce on the trampoline at My Gym and you watch the other toddlers jump, you just haven't figured it out for yourself yet.

The Christmas tree has been a big attraction for you. Daddy and I put it up while you were hanging out with your Nana. The first day or two you were afraid to go near it, likely wondering how a full grown tree sprouted in our living room.

Now, of course, ornaments routinely walk off of the tree and mysteriously appear in your bedroom. Of particular attraction are the teddy bear ornaments that your Auntie Brie and I bought at Harrods in England three years ago.

Someday I will take you to England and show you the miles of shopping in Harrods. Maybe we'll buy something there, maybe we won't. We'll take the London underground from place to place, delighting in the foreign accent and new sights.

Someday yes, I will introduce you to my passion for travel. Maybe you will love it as I do, maybe you won't.

I often wonder what you'll like as you grow bigger. Right now you love everything we're doing and I'm even looking for a Ava-sized broom so you can sweep when Mommy does.

For now, you have swept us up with your charm and infectious laugh.

I never knew love could be so big.

Chit chat

Hi sweet girl,

You have become quite the chatter box. Most of the time you chatter in a language that we don't understand, but you do have an arsenal of new words at your disposal.

Take "eat" for example. You say eat sometimes, but most of the time you say "bite," as in, "Ava, do you want a bite?"

So you've replaced eat with bite in your vocabulary.

After watching Baby Einstein videos, your knowledge of animals has grown tremendously. These are your latest words:

cow (bow)
mouse (mow, like cow)
butterfly (buh bye)
kitty cat (giggy ga)
doggie (dah-GEE)

There are many more, and I will add them as I remember.

Speaking with your hands

Hi sweet girl,

At long last after my months and months of signing "more" and "eat" and "elephant," you are signing back to me.

You are doing lots of other things like sliding the mirrored closet doors back and forth; feeding me with your fork when you have any food except bananas; you point at my mobile phone and say "bay-bee" because you know there is a picture of you in my phone.

You have also, to my complete amusement, started picking up two paper bags and putting the handles in the inner crook of your elbow and then grab your plastic keys and walk to the front door saying "bye bye." I respond with "Bye bye, I'll miss you, come back soon."

There aren't words to tell you how funny this is.

But I was talking about how you use sign language to talk to me, and went off on a tangent as usual. "Off on a tangent" was a phrase that was invented for your Mommy, you'll find out soon enough.

You sign all kinds of things these days. You often confuse "more" for "eat" and when I ask if you want to eat, you sign more. You do, however, sign more when you want me to read your book again, and again, and again.

The big accomplishment, as I see it, is that I've taught you to sign "help." It took me no less than thirty-three years to ask anyone for help, much less know how to say it in sign language. Asking for help, baby, it's what makes the world go round. Now when you start to get frustrated because you can't do something, I ask you, "Ava, do you want help?" as I sign help. You pause, look up, and pat your chest or tummy with both hands (which is your approximation of the sign I'm using for help).

This is utterly and completely fabulous.

To top that off, last night I taught you to sign "please" when you were getting frustrated and wanted me to read your book again. "Can you say 'please'?" I asked you, while moving my hand in a circle on my breastbone. You looked straight at me and signed "please" right back. Then I had to read your book to you at least five times because you kept signing "please." That's okay, I'm willing to read it a dozen times if you ask nicely, even if you are doing it because I'm reading my own book.

Sign language, this is some miraculous stuff!

I love you sweet girl,
Mommy

Mommy time

Hi my little love,

The one thing it is so easy to forget as a Mommy is to take care of myself. I remember to feed you, change you, entertain you, but forget all about me in the process. I know without a doubt that I can only take care of others well if I take care of myself first, so I have been trying for a little bit each day to take time for me.

I've started writing again, nothing fabulous or meaningful but just my average three pages a day. I started meditating again, just a little bit. Fifteen minutes yesterday; ten minutes today. These are precious little slices of time I am giving to myself. Yesterday morning when I got up, I finished my writing and went downstairs to meditate on the red chair. Your Daddy came down to see what I was doing, you wanted to come down to see what I was doing, when really I was doing nothing. I heard the door shut upstairs and found out later that you and Daddy went for a ride to the store to get breakfast. Daddy figured if he stuck around the house that he'd just want to bug me.

As I said, precious moments of time. I didn't want to drive my behind to yoga, I just wanted a break, in my own home, in my pajamas, to breathe. I've figured out in the last few years that if I want something it usually shows up, just not on my schedule. If I want a break I don't usually get the break right at that moment, I usually get it in the next day or so. I figure this is someone teaching me how to be patient.

Anyway, my hope is that by seeing me take care of myself, you will learn to do the same. Helping others is good, but not if it costs you too much of yourself.

love always,
Mommy

As you wish

Hi little one,

Tonight was one of those nights. One of those rainy, thunder, lightening, dark kinds of nights that I was exhausted by the time I got home. I was driving Maz, your daddy's red truck in heavy traffic across the bay bridge, and after resting half an hour realized I wanted pajamas instead of going out to a movie with my friends.

Your Daddy headed out to meet friends, and I told your Nana that she could go home. Nana was nervous and restless from the lightening and you were full of chaotic nervous energy. After she left we split a grilled cheese sandwich and a yummy pear, I tidied up a bit, put you in pj's and we headed downstairs.

"We need a movie..." I said to you. But what kind of movie do we need? I dismissed the Disney animated movies, dismissed my typical girl choices like "When Harry Met Sally" or "How to Make An American Quilt" and saw it. The right choice:

"The Princess Bride"

See, I adore this movie. I love the danger, the irony, and the fabulous word tango.

"Stop rhyming, I mean it." "Anyone want a peanut?"
"My way is not very sportsman like."
"Death can't stop true love, the most it can do is delay it for a while."
"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die."
"You were mostly dead all day."
"To the death!" "No, to the pain!"

Of course the part I don't like is that Buttercup is so helpless, that she can't even beat off the ROUS'es in the fire swamp when she's holding a big stick, but I can forgive that part. If I wrote the movie, she'd kick ass too.

The book is even better than the movie, and when your book attention span lasts more than five minutes, I promise I'll read it to you.

My movie had the right affect, it calmed me down, calmed you down, and now you are fast asleep on the floor.

All my love,
Mommy

Nineteen months

Hi sweet girl,

You will be nineteen months tomorrow and I am celebrating by taking off for the weekend with my friend Tracey and leaving you at home with Dah-DEE. This is the best present I could give you, even better than 500 cookies piled on top of 1000 tortillas, because on Sunday when I come home I will be a happy, grateful, new improved Mah-MEE who has missed you and talked about you all weekend.

I wish I could think of all the new things you're doing lately. You have now figured out how to get out of your big girl bed in the morning and then make noise with all the toys on your bedroom floor. You also now get really upset when I take something away, even when that something is a pair of scissors that I left too close to the edge of the table. No matter, I have a secret weapon: distraction. Whenever that bottom lip puckers out and quivers and the wailing begins, I start to play with something, anything, and you look up, wander over, and come play with me. Distraction, it's a powerful tool for my Mom-belt.

Words...you're saying some new words but I don't remember what. You say 'bite" with alarming regularity when I ask you if you want a bite of whatever I'm eating. "Bite!" you respond, although you omit the "b".

You like to (try to) put your own shoes and socks on, and you love untying anyone's shoes that are in close range. You then try to retie them, with no luck. I admire the effort though.

You have become enamored with all the electronic noise making toys that you previously ignored. You love your Baby Tad that plays different songs when you press buttons, but mostly you've discovered that one hand plays a song with words and the other hand plays night-night music. Those tunes have you rocking out hard to "twinkle, twinkle little star" and "oh where, oh where has my little dog gone" and all I can do is sit back and laugh.

Speaking of laughing, the other toy you adore these days is a mini baby tad who sings the ABC song. You like to take mini tad's hands in yours and swing him back and forth. Over and over you press his tummy to play the ABC song while Dah-DEE and I roll our eyes and think, "oh no, not again."

"Oh-no" is one of your new sounds, along with "uh-oh" that you say appropriately when you fall down or something falls from you.

But it's time for me to escape for the weekend. I love you, little one, thank you for nineteen wonderful months.

All my love,
Mah-MEE

Ava's Second Halloween

Last year I didn't dress Ava up in a costume. This year, I was urged (as in Becky saying "you HAVE to!) to dress her up, and so, I chose this...

Happy Halloween, my sweet mermaid!

Under my skin

Dear Ava,

This is what Mommy looked like in the final days when you were camping out in my tummy. I was big and round and gained sixty pounds even though you were only six and a half pounds when you were born.

That's no matter though, because we went to Mom & Baby Yoga and went on lots of walks, and I kept telling myself that it took nine months to get this size and it would likely take nine months for the weight to go away. Now, nearly nineteen months after your birth, all but eight pounds are gone. They're a stubborn eight pounds, settled on my abdomen, where weight has never settled before. Oh well, if eight pounds is what I have, eight pounds it is until I do something about it.

When you were growing inside me I used to sing to you. I sang you lots of songs, but the song I sang nearly every day was Frank Sinatra's "Under My Skin." I couldn't find anything more appropriate to sing you than "I've got you, under my skin; I've got you, deep in the heart of me." Although I didn't know for sure you were a girl, I'd still sing the line "Oh little girl, you never can win, because I've got you, under my skin."

Now I sing you this song when I want you to settle down and rest. Sometimes I sing the song just because it's in my head. When you're older and aren't as easily entertained by lights in the ceiling or unopened tea bags, I'll tell you this story, and wonder if everytime you hear that song when you're out and about in the world, you'll think of me.

Big girl bed

Hi big girl,

There are a few changes happening in our world...perhaps the most interesting to you is we replaced your crib with a big-girl toddler bed!

We also replaced most of your furniture with a bedroom set from Ikea. Your room looks now like a little girl sleeps and plays there, not a baby. You actually slept on your new bed all night last night. I started off laying down beside you, because fortunately Mah-MEE is short and fits on the bed, and your eyes plummeted, opened, plummeted, opened, and ker-plunk. You were out. I wandered back to my own big-girl bed and we all slept peacefully.

This morning I heard you cry on waking around 7, I peeked my head in and said "Good morning! Come out here when you're ready!" You were curious, there were no bars on your bed restraining you, and about five minutes later you toddled on out into the kitchen.

Your Dah-DEE and I are both wondering how the new bed will go. We both sense you're ready for a trifle more freedom and think this bed is a step in the right direction.

For now, you're in your bed fast asleep, but you were delivered that way from your Nana in your carseat an hour ago. We'll see how tonight goes, because me of all people know that I can't predict tonight based on last night when I'm living with a toddler.

I love you, my big girl.
Mah-MEE

Five days with Grandma Bear

Dear little one who is getting bigger by the second,

We just got home on Tuesday after five days with Grandma Bear. You still don't say Grandma Bear, although I would swear in court on a Bible that you've said bear before, you just don't say it anymore. You do, however, point in the right direction when I ask, "Where is Grandma Bear?"


This, of course, delights Grandma Bear totally and completely, even better than if she won the Colorado Lottery. Maybe.
We had a great time. You spent hours climbing up and down the stairs. You would sneak over to the stairs, thinking we weren't watching you, but come on, with not just one trained mom, but two the odds of you doing anything we didn't know about were near impossible. When you got to about the fourth step, you would sit down and pause, while either Grandma Bear or I would go over to you (depending on whose turn it was) and you would giggle like something hilarious just happened.

Climbing up you do the normal baby way, like a crawl, but up stairs. Your climbing down procedure varied between coming down one step at a time on your bottom, or sliding down on your tummy. Both are equally amusing.

You liked Grandma Bear's cat, Kiwi (who I have nicknamed Feisty Kitty), but Kiwi wanted nothing to do with you. We were grateful for that, because I don't call that petite calico Feisty Kitty for no reason.

October 2004, Ava at 6 months

You got to see people out there who remembered you from our last visit a year ago, who marveled at the walking baby that had replaced the one who I previously carried about in the infant carrier. A couple were salivating over you, not because they wanted a baby, but because they wanted a grandbaby.

You also loved the digital camera, and wanted to see the "baby" every time someone, anyone took a picture of you.

You also had a great time "driving" the boat as we took pictures to send to Dah-DEE. Obviously in this shot you are looking to make sure there are no other boats in the way before you merge left.

Grandma Bear took good care of us. Going to visit her is like a vacation from a vacation. Mah-MEE's mobile phone with mobile email doesn't work high up in the mountains of Colorado (probably one of the last places on earth it doesn't) so Mah-MEE really gets to relax. Every morning Grandma Bear asks "what should we have for dinner?" and lists all of the meat in her well stocked freezer. I missed her for that when I got home and had to ask myself that question. I missed her for a lot more than that also.

Your Grandma Bear, she's great. Her heart is big and full of love for us. Someday I'll tell you the story of how I named her Grandma Bear, but not today.

I love you Ava,
And we all love you, Grandma Bear.

At the airport

We are waiting for our flight and I have just taught Ava what an airplane is.

Every 5 min I ask her, Ava where is the airplane?

It's my inside joke, like when we went to see March of the Penguins and I asked her "where is the penguin?"

The perfect response

Hi honey,

If there is one question I could teach you as the catch-all phrase when someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, it would be...

Why do you want to know?

I learned this response late in life. I wish I'd known it early on, because people are always asking for all kinds of information and often I answer, only wish I had the forethought to respond with ... Why do you want to know?

This question stops most people dead in their tracks because they don't have a good reason for wanting to know, sure, they may be curious, but really it's none of their business.

I've never been one for a snappy, mildly sarcastic response to a situation. Like Meg Ryan's character in "You've Got Mail," I tend to wish I had a snappy response, but never do, and fret about it for days after the event.

I wish I carried "Why do you want to know?" around in my back pocket, like a wooden stake against verbal vampires, but I don't.

Maybe though, in teaching you to ask that question, I can learn to say it more often too.

love,
Mom