Food Review: Mango

I can't even...

Dear Mango,

Marry me you old so and so.  Prunes are dead to me.

Yours with undying love,
Ducky

Bottom line:  WHEEE!!!  Dum dum dumdum, dum dum dumdum...

Destination Review: Vancouver

A mountain making sure the sky doesn't go too far.

Five months ago Mamamamama and Dadada took me to a place called "Florida".  "Florida" was amazing.  It was warm, Grandma and Peepa were there (I just love those two!), and I had a bed, food and lots of attention.  Pretty much all the comforts of home, minus the freezing cold weather.  A++. 

Well just this past week Mamamamama and I left Dadada at home (the bad part) and went to Vancouver to visit Grandpa (the good part).

Vancouver is great!  I had a bed, food and lots of attention.  Plus there were mountains (for those of you unfamiliar with mountains, they are big shadowy things that connect the ground to the sky), and an ocean (best described as a large pool I was not allowed to splash in - though inexplicably a bunch of birds WERE allowed to splash in it - I'm still a little miffed about the injustice of that situation, but I digress...).  We went for lots of walks, met lots of people, snuggled with Grandpa and threw food all over his kitchen floor! 

The biggest drawback to Vancouver was the endless trip there and back.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy waving at every possible person just as much as the next baby, and Mamamamama is a delight to cuddle with - but an estimated 17 hours straight of nothing but waving and cuddling in an "airplane" is enough to drive any baby to fuss and/or nap. 

I wish we could go to Vancouver every week, but would prefer if it relocated to the Park down the street from our house.  That would be much more convenient.

Bottom line:  WHEEE!!!  The next best thing to throwing food all over my own kitchen floor.

Activity Review: Bubble Time

Aren't they beautiful?!

I'm about to share an experience with you, dear reader, that can only be described as magical.  When you are finished reading this entry, you must immediately go to your nearest bubble store to buy bubble water, and then head to your front porch to blow as many bubbles as you possibly can.

Now that it is no longer colder than a refrigerated jar of purée outside, Mamamamama and I have made it part of our routine to sit out on the front porch in the late afternoon.  We read some books, play with some toys, try to put leaves into our mouths when the other person isn't looking (no?  just me?), and watch with awe as bubbles float around us, courtesy of Mamamamama and a bottle of bubble water.

Bubbles are quite possibly the most beautiful and frustrating things on earth.  Beautiful because they fly and are full of swirly rainbows and are the most perfect circles.  Frustrating because they either fly too high to grab, or they vanish as soon as they feel threatened (which is basically ALWAYS, much like our cats).  Sometimes Mamamamama will catch one on her magic bubble wand and bring it to me, but bubbles submit to no one, not even Mamamamama, and they disappear the second I reach out to grab them.  The element of surprise is no match for a bubble's magic. 

Bubble Time is truly one of my favourite times of day.  Especially because a few days ago I made Mamamamama so proud she cried a little when I repeated her question "more bubbles?!" back to her (granted it sounded more like "ma baba", but I'm new to this whole "words" scene).  Now I let her know whenever I'm ready for more bubbles by telling her "ma baba" while clapping my hands.

I'm gonna have to look into this talking thing a little more closely, because it seems like a highly effective way to let Mamamamama and Dadada know exactly what I want...

Bottom line:  WHEEE!!!  Ma baba!!!!  Ma baba!!!!

Book Review: The Gruffalo

Writer's interpretation of the Gruffalo monster.  Not to scale.

If Mamamamama or Dadada tries to read me the Gruffalo one more time I'm going to sickup.  Who has the patience to get through this book?!  The word-to-picture ratio is 5 thousand million to 1.  If I want to have the Gruffalo read to me I will grow up, get accepted to Oxford and major in English Literature (with a minor in Clapping to Music).  I mean seriously - I happen to know that Dadada has read War and Peace (#proudbaby) and from the sounds of it, it is about 1/10th the length of the Gruffalo.  Yes, I've cited a hashtag, a ratio, a fraction and at least one made up number in this post.  What of it?!

For those of you with a couple of years to kill, here's what you're getting yourselves into: Mouse is stalked by several ravenous animals.  Mouse scares ravenous animals into retreat with tales of scary Gruffalo monster.  Baby gets distracted by paint drying and/or falls asleep.  Story continues for hours.  Baby gets fussy.  Story continues for several more hours.  Baby loses mind and pushes book away forcefully whilst trying to escape from Mamamamama's lap.  Story continues on ad nauseum.  Baby grows up, gets married, has children, enjoys a rewarding career while maintaining a fulfilling work life balance, returns to childhood home and finds Mamamamama is only halfway through reading the Gruffalo.

Bottom line: WAAAH!!  Longest.  Book.  Ever.

Book Review: That's Not My Dinosaur

Pretty sure this isn't my dinosaur...

 

Those of you who have been following my Blog know that dinosaurs feature prominently in my favourite literature.  So it's no surprise that I am able to formally convey my extreme appreciation for the excellent text that is "That's Not My Dinosaur".

This book is part of the Usborne Touchy-feely series written by Fiona Watt and illustrated by Rachel Wells.  Overall this series is truly spectacular.  Although the theme of the books is similar, each volume has its own unique character and subject. 

The premise of "That's Not My Dinosaur" is that you have a dinosaur (yes please!), but you can't find it (oh no!) and you have to check out a bunch of dinosaurs (yes please!) to determine whether those dinosaurs are yours (one is!).  Most of the dinosaurs are pretty easy to rule out because (for example), their horns are too rough, or their teeth are too bumpy.  I mean COME ON, as if my dino is going to have such bumpy teeth! 

The only drawback here is that the suspense is almost too intense and self-doubt can start to creep in.  Will I ever find my dinosaur?!  What if I don't?!  Will it find a nice family to live with?  Does it have enough to eat?  Are my dinosaur's teeth that bumpy?  Maybe they ARE that bumpy.  I can't remember if I even checked my dinosaur's teeth the last time I saw my dinosaur.  Oh my gosh, does my dinosaur even HAVE teeth?!  I don't have teeth.  WHY DON'T I HAVE TEETH?!

Bottom Line: WHEEE!!!  A real page turner, so long as you don't overthink it...

Activity Review: Clapping

Are those hands or are those hummingbird wings?!

 

I've started to notice that I can do stuff.  Like actually accomplish things.  One of those things is making Mamamamama and Dadada cheer "Yaaayyy!" and clap on command.  This is useful for so many reasons, the first and foremost of which is that it makes me super super happy.  The key to getting a cheerclap out of either or both of Mamamamama and Dadada is really quite straightforward, and I'll share it with you here, dear reader, because everyone should be able to elicit cheerclaps whenever they need a sweet pick-me-up (read: NON-STOP).

The secret is: clap your own hands together.  

That's it!  Seems too good to be true doesn't it?!  It isn't.  It's real, and it's that easy.

I figured this out just the other day and I'm not kidding, any time I clap my hands together Mamamamama and Dadada cheerclap along with me.  It's so delightful I can't even handle it.

Here are my of tips for executing the perfect clap:

Take each of your hands and bring them together enthusiastically several times while maintaining eye contact with your Mamamamama or Dadada.  We're not looking for perfect technique here.  Your enthusiasm will make up for whatever you lack in skill and accuracy.  Smile a lot and look especially proud of yourself each time you manage to bring those hands together.  I guarantee your day will be full of cheerclaps aplenty.

Bottom Line: WHEEE!!!  Yaaaayyyy!  Yaaaayyy! Yaaayyy!  Yaaayyy!  Yaaaaaayyy!  Yaaaaayyy!  Yaaaaayyyy!  Yaaaayyy!  Yaaayy!  Yaaaaaayyyy!  Yaaayyy!  Yaayy!  Yaaaaayyyy!  And so on.

Destination Review: The Doctor

Not the actual very sharp something.

 

Apparently "Going to the Doctor" is something us babies are pretty much obligated to do.  It seems to happen with more frequency than I'd like (I'd prefer never) and with little to no warning.  I still haven't figured out why we have to "Go to the Doctor". 

Sometimes we go so that the Really Really Really Nice Lady can tell me how cute I am and then jab me with a very sharp something.  What the what?!  If you are a really really really nice lady, why are you forced to work as a Baby Jabber?  Can't you find employment as a Swimming Teacher (my Swimming Teacher is a really really really nice lady and the most unpleasant thing she has to do is put my face in the water) or a Person Who Carries a Briefcase (Mamamamama carries a briefcase and is frankly the nicest lady I know)?! 

Other times we go so that the Relatively Friendly Lady can put me on a "scale" and tell Dadada for the bazillionth time that I am in the "50th percentile".  Apparently this is very important information and Dadada makes sure to call Mamamamama to share the news as soon as we leave the Doctor.  Dadada repeats the things he said to the Relatively Friendly Lady, like "great", "sounds like everything's on track", and "that's encouraging", so I'm guessing the Relatively Friendly Lady is doing some good work as a Scale Operator.  The only feedback the Really Really Really Nice Lady gets is when I purposefully give her my best "I thought you liked me!!?  WHHHYYYYY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!!!!!" eyes.

If the Doctor was to ask me how they could improve on the experience of "Going to the Doctor", I would tell the Doctor that they could use more toys, less jabbing, and more job opportunities for the Really Really Really Nice Lady.

Bottom Line: WAAAH!!!!  The only benefit of "Going to the Doctor" from what I can tell, is that I can safely remove Baby Jabber from my list of potential careers (Cat, Swimming Teacher, Scale Operator and Person Who Carries a Briefcase are still on the list).