Seven Hundred Thirty-one Days

Right this minute Gaz is sitting in her new Radio Flyer wagon eating blueberries with her doll, Sweetie. I tried to get her a used wagon on craigslist, but the lady I connected with never did tell me where she lived or where to meet her. Then when Gaz got a healthy amount of birthday money, we just decided to go for one with seatbelts (considering how daring Gaz is, we probably should have planned on doing this from the beginning).

As I already noted, Gaz has been talking constantly. Every day now, we have an explosion of various magnitudes of new words and word combinations. There are so many new words, that I can't tell anymore if a word is in fact new or I was too overwhelmed with other words the last time she said a thing.

"My turn!" has replaced "Self!" as the new way for her to express her desire to do a thing by herself. She demands that it is her turn to do it herself for everything from cutting up a cucumber for a snack (which I don't allow, in case you were worried) to driving the car (also not allowed, in addition to being not possible) to brushing her teeth and combing her hair. Today she got dressed all by herself. Okay, she had a tiny bit of help from me: I straightened her shirt out so she could get her arms in the correct sleeves, and I helped her get her waistband over the bulky backside of diaper.

Now Gaz has moved on to playing in the wagon box. She's in there with a flashlight yelling "keep me!" Not sure exactly what that's about, but it's cute.

She's still singing and dancing all the time. She's still got her old favorites ("Animals! Animals animals ANIMALS!" and "Unicorns" and "Dinosaurs", which are all the same tune with different words) and some new ones too. The best one hasn't been repeated in a while, but I'm sure she'll sing it again soon. I've never gone on about infant excrement here and I don't plan on going on about the toddler variety, but we're going to get close to that subject. I promise it's funny, though.

The other day I was here at the laptop and Gaz was playing under the dining room table with some balloons. There is a fan on the other side of the table, so when an ill wind blew my way I knew who the culprit was. "Do you have a poopy* diaper?" I asked. "No, Mommy," was the initial response, but even before I could get down on hands and knees to coax her out I started hearing the new song: "Pooooooopy daaaaaaaahhhhhhhhper! Pooooooopy daaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhper!" I laughed myself stupid. The adorable babyish pronunciation makes it. And now let me share with you another song of hers:

Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, H
Twinkle, twinkle, what you are
H I J K L M N O P
Q R S
T U V
W X Y and Z!

She's also obsessed with They Might Be Giants's album "Here Come The ABCs." She knows the names to most of the songs and has her favorites that she like to sing along with. "Go for G" is quite popular these days.

Now Gaz has filled her wagon with pillows and insists that she is sleeping. I have to go explain again that I can't join her in the wagon. I think this is just about all the new stuff. Except that she's got three of her two-year molars out and about. Still waiting on the lower right to make its entrance. Wooo!

Oh, and if you are localish and haven't received the e-mail about our local birthday party plans, drop us a line!


* I don't like using cutesy names for bodily functions, but I do make use of and advocate "poopy" as an adjective.