I have a sister!

Well, folks, it's been great having you here, but I have my very own sister now--so we're all congregating over at Feldman Cubs now. See you there!

zzzzzzz

Mom and dad took a nap for about three hours. Much more comfy with the epidural.

Mom eats ice chips like Abel the golden retriever eats snowballs!

Epidural!

Mom is full of fentanyl and bupivacaine. Much better!

Dilation, IVs

5 cm and 90% effaced. And they finally ran an IV line that worked. Epidural coming soon....

Waiting for the stork

Mom and dad are in the hospital, waiting for the stork.

Bubbles, snow, watch, plant

You may have heard about our recent encounter with a foot and a half of snow.




First things first: This is Boulder, so it has already melted.




It's gone.




When it was here, though, I took the opportunity to go outside and (try to) blow some frozen bubbles.




First, you dip the wand into the little pool of liquid.




Hmm ...




Om nom nom nom nom!



OK--back to blowing bubbles.




What's wrong with this picture?




Dad tried and tried and tried to show me how to do this, but I can be a strong-willed toddler every so often.




Eventually I gave up and sat in the snow-bench.




Dad stopped wearing his watch months ago, since he could never find it anymore. I'm always baking it in my oven or hiding it somewhere.




So he gave it to me, which I think is neat.




This is a plant.

These hairs were not going to cut themselves

Dad tried to cut my hairs himself last week, but he stopped when it devolved into his chasing me around the house with scissors.




Mom stepped in and took me to the professionals. And she brought dad's camera too!




If dad had known to park me on a hippo, this would not have been necessary.




Dads are pretty smart, but they're woefully uninformed in a lot of ways.



Bangs!




I'm glad I don't have hairs in my eyes anymore, so I can see the blizzard outside.




Yep, that's more than a foot of snow on my play table!

Dirt and rocks, mostly

My new thing is to cover my legs in dirt ...




... and then complain that I'm dirty.




Sometimes that annoys dad, and he puts me on rock duty.




I think dad's friend Haley took this one.




Dad took this one. Mom likes to tell dad that there's a baby in there, and it will come out on April first, but I'm in on the joke. It's just a pillow!




Dad says I need to get a haircut "in a big way," but I don't see why.




What? What are you looking at?




I'd really like to keep my raggedy mop top, as it's a big part of my rock and roll look.




The tone on this bridge pickup is way off.




Hmm. Not sure what happens after that.



Dad built this guitar himself, and he used to care what happened to it.




Now he's so occupied with prepping my strawberries, he doesn't even think about those things anymore!




Om nom nom nom.




He did have time to take this photo of what I like to call the "smell tree" in our yard.




Don't ask.

Hitting the gym pretty hard these days

I've been getting to the gym every Saturday like clockwork.




The toddler dodgeball nationals are just a month away.




Here, I'm telling Brooks about the finer points of gymnastics.




In exchange, he helps me with my forward rolls.



My technique is, of course, impeccable.




Whee!!!




Thwap!!!




That was pretty great, but I always say you should act like you've been there before.




Oh, I can't help it.




Gymnastics class is 45 minutes long, so I usually need two or three snack breaks.




When I carbo-load, no piece of focaccia is safe.



Back to the grind.

Once around the block

More photos coming soon.

Happy winter!

Greetings from sunny Boulder, Colorado!




It's still winter, but you wouldn't know it.




I went to the park and played today.



This is a picture of me not getting stuck to this metal pole, which is not ice-cold--even though it's technically winter.




And this is a picture of me pretending to catch snowflakes. I have to pretend, you see, because there are no snowflakes falling--even though it's still winter.




My more astute readers will notice a theme developing here.

Happy 731st, Rosie!

This is my friend Rosie. She's 731 today, so I got her this nifty bunny puppet.




Rosie would like to point out that she's 731 in days, not years. If you insist on measuring in years. she's two.




Her birthday party was very cool. You can't go wrong giving mallets to toddlers.




I also enjoyed this sneaux cone, which I invented myself with parts I found.



Sneaux is faux snow, in case you couldn't tell.




You can really taste the sneaux!




Hold on. I'm getting a call.




Riley Potamus here.




Uh oh. It's Samuel Bert. He says my sneaux cone is a patent infringement and he's going to sue me.




Oh, right. OK. I'll tell him.




I'm just 22 months old and you've been dead for 25 years. Bring it, Sammy.




This is my friend Henry. He likes dump trucks even more than I do.




And this is Isabella. She really likes my clacking gator walker. I'll remember to bring it next time, when Rosie turns 1096.

This dog is hungry for a mud pie!

Hello from my favorite park! You and this dog are in for a treat, as I have baked mud pies for everyone!




Here you go, puppy. Om nom nom nom!



I find your canine hesitance disappointing.




Just one taste, dog.




There! Was that so bad? I made it with love--and topsoil!




Calm down, east coasters. The nice dogs out here are big and friendly and accustomed to my antics. I won't feed mud pies to the leashed rodents who relieve themselves on your sidewalks. Ba ha ha ha!