rebel without a shoe (or, how to question authority)

ok, ok, i know it's been a long while, but i was busy. write 2 papers a week for four months and then see how much time you have!

anyways, quite a bit has happened since last we spoke. emmi is now running around like crazy: climbing, jumping, and squeezing through any obstacle in such a way, it would make even the best catburgler jealous. she has also learned to test her limits. this is both an annoyance and a source of pride to me. i am proud that she questions authority; the only problem is that *i* am the authority. i am convinced that she knowingly does this, too. just before she does something, let's say, shake the side table with the lamp on it, as i'm saying no to her, she will look at me as if to say, 'i'm gonna do it anyway, beotch!' and then look me right in the eye and smirk at me! then when i get up to stop her, she runs away giggling like an effin' hyena! she has also invented several interesting ways to remove her shoes and socks. and then there's the touching. if it isn't nailed on, strapped in, glued to or otherwise attached, she will grab it. i know my father is looking down on me laughing his ass off every time i tell emmi to stop touching things she is not supposed to touch.

emmi is very much into the baby talk now as well. she can say a few words and even some simple sentences, but for the most part it's gibberish and sounds, although i wouldn't be surprised if someone told me that she was speaking mandarin chinese.

then there is the big news: emmi is going to be a big sister! yup, due almost exactly 2 years apart from emmi. we are doing the same thing as the first time around - we won't know if it's a boy or girl until it's on this side of the uterus.

she's gonna be a great big sister, but i can see this conversation taking place:

'ok kid, let's get a few things straight…rule #1: i'm in charge. rule #2: don't forget rule #1.'

'gagaga…'

'ok. glad we're on the same page.'

then they will both find their way into the cupboard and re-decorate the kitchen using flour, sugar, and chef boyardee cans.

stop laughing at me, dad.

the girl with microscope eyes (or, how to improve fine motor skills)

it has been three weeks since emmi's first fledgling steps, and since then she is now officially walking around everywhere. it's great news, but the bad news is that she is now walking around everywhere. she is like a visa card in reverse: she's everywhere you don't want her to be. ergo, the gates are installed and the fences are up blocking off the tv. our living room now resembles guantanamo effin' bay, but with toys.

she also has picked up (no pun intended) a habit of finding and zooming in on the tiniest imperceptible piece of fuzz on the carpet. i look over to her, and she bends down, reaches out with thumb and forefinger, all dainty-like, and seemingly picks up nothing. yet the next thing i know is there is a thread the size of a nose hair in her hand. i grab it, put it in my pocket, and go about my business. until, that is, the next piece of fuzz makes it into her hand. i swear i don't know how she sees these in the carpet, unless we have given birth to a baby terminator who thinks that carpet fuzz is sarah connor.

and now that she is walking, she is also testing her boundaries. she understands 'no', but that sometimes doesn't stop her. i don't blame her - she is a kid, and god knows my dad is looking down and smiling, because i have found myself saying the same thing i heard as kid: 'don't touch things you're not supposed to touch...'

i have also been trying to perfect 'the look': you know, that look that a parent can give that will scare the bejeezus out of a child enough to freeze them in their tracks. i've tried it on her, but i probably look pretty dumb. i imagine i look something like the rock:

if this is true, she will probably be laughing too hard to continue the offending behavior. not quite the effect i was going for, but i guess if it works it works.