the ball popper, part 2 (or, how to get it right)

ok, so a few of you may remember this post about the busy ball popper. well, a year and a few months later, at a playdate, we found emmi in love with playing with her friend's ball popper. now, having seemingly scarred her for life the first time she saw one of these things, we were more than a little surprised. so we decided to resurrect her own ball popper from the island of misfit toys, and lo and be-effin'-hold...



i guess it's just one of those things you learn as you get older: if at first you don't succeed, try the popper again.

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.

the ball popper (or, how to eliminate fringe career choices)

so kathy found this video on youtube and became enamored with this toy:



the first thing i thought of is that it reminded me of a pick 4 lottery ball machine. in my head, i flash forward and think emmi will have a career as the girl who reads the winning numbers (it's sorta show business right? how did yolanda vega get that job anyway?) needless to say, we went out and got the playskool busy ball popper.



well, as you can see, we not only managed to traumatize emmi, we successfully ensured she will cower in fear at 9pm every night during the lottery drawing. a career in calling bingo is probably out of the question as well.

p.s. the ball popper is now in the closet until further notice.

operation doll delivery (or, how to surprise mommy when she least expects it)

anyone who knows me knows that i am seriously forgetful. i'd forget to bring my head to work if it wasn't attached to my neck. it's not done on purpose, it just happens that i have a spaghetti strainer for a brain. so since kathy had some stuff to do in the morning, she and i were going to meet at gymboree (yes, we take emmi to gymboree. it's damn fun, ok?) and then she was to go with emmi to her mom's house up in poughkeepsie for a few days, a girls only trip where any boys within range would have rocks thrown at them. so, it fell to me to make sure i had everything she needed. i double checked and triple checked. bottles, food, jacket, blanket, binkie. i got this!

wrong.

three little words turned my pride into sheer disgust: 'where's sarah jessica?' like an idiot, i had left her favorite doll on the bed while putting her in the car seat. crap crap crap crap crap!

now i feel about as small as the midgets on that 'little people big world' show. i was so proud, so happy i'd finally remembered everything!

so we go our separate ways, her to her mom's and me to work. but i have to make up for this. so i decided that instead of sitting at home with my thumb up my ass, after work, i'll stop home, pick up sarah jessica, and drive the 3 hours in traffic to poughkeepsie to make sure emmi has her doll to go to bed with, and then drive back home again after. the look on my wife's face as i got to the door clearly gave the impression she thought i was nuts, but at least i felt better that she'd have her doll tonight. and that was the important thing.

some people might think that 5 hours of driving might be too much for a doll, but for me, it was worth the peace of mind. and i didn't even have any rocks thrown at me.