This is getting out of hand

Owen looked at this blog recently and decided there were too many pictures of Abby.

So here are Owen, Runaround and Muffin.

This cat thing isn't slowing down, either. The other day after finishing dinner, Owen was handed a cloth to wipe his face. He did so. Then we noticed him putting said cloth down the back of his pants.

Sue: Owen! What are you doing?

Owen: Washing my tail.

Baby steps

When Owen was a wee lad, he followed the usual pattern of first learning to sit up, then crawl, then pull himself up to a standing position, then take tentative steps whilst holding onto furniture.

Then, one day, and I remember this well, he was standing while hanging onto the stair rail and then just let go of the rail and took off like he'd been shot out of a cannon. He didn't walk so much as scurry, and with a constant forward lean that made it look as though he was always fighting against a strong breeze.

Abby has followed all the same steps, but has stalled a little at the walking. She motors around the furniture, and yet for a few unaided steps here and there can't seem to be bothered to walk much. Any day now, though, we expect a full-on scamper, and poor Owen won't know what hit him.

Here's Abby's latest steps. (You may consider turning down the volume, as Sue got a little excited while recording.)

A model child

Sue recently took Abby to Loblaws to have her photo taken. She would have also taken Owen, except he still declines to be photographed unless he gets to make a "cat face." So we don't bother.

The photo turned out great, and the young woman at the photo studio liked it so much she said she was going to have a print made to display there. Sue was awfully excited, although we weren't entirely sure whether it was a sales-pitch put-on.

But no. Upon purchasing groceries today, Owen and I spotted Abby's portrait on the counter at the photo desk. Owen was impressed.

We are thinking of simply referring to Abby now by one name, to make her sound more like an exotic supermodel: probably "Abigail" would work better.

Realistically, though, it's hard to see this being the start of a career. Everyone knows models are skinny, and Abigail likes her food. Maybe she can fit into the niche for rubenesque models.

Here's the photo.

Welcome to our world

We have taught Owen that, when Abby is threatening to do something like knock over his train set or turn off the television (she likes buttons), he is to call one of his parents rather than forcibly eject her from the room.

The result is that the day is broken up by intermittent cries of "Help!" from Owen, at which point we trot into the room and resolve things.

But Owen has begun to try to cut out the middleman, and he is finding that, by golly, one-year-olds are not so good at following instructions. Yesterday Abby was crawling with a head of steam toward Owen's trains and he tried telling her to go in the other direction.

"Abby, go this way!"
(No response)
"No, Abby, this way!"
(Giggle, continues in same direction)
"Abby! Listen to me!"
(No response.)
"Oh, you little rascal."

Things we learned on holiday

1. You cannot fool a four-year-old into thinking the food that is served in the Third World is quite the same as the food back home. Give the kid a glass of milk, he notices it is not exactly white in colour. More like eggshell. "It tastes funny," he says, having not actually tasted it. You are inclined to agree.
2. The above rule does not apply to breadsticks and french fries, which formed the basis of Owen's vacation diet. Good times.
3. There is no such thing as waterproof sunscreen.
4. Europeans really do prefer Speedos. God help us.
5. The Santana Beach Resort appears to have a music playlist of about 10 songs. Owen recognized all of them by the end of the trip.
6. Further to that point, it remains the last place on Earth where "Who let the dogs out?" is considered a current hit.

Unrelated to the things we learned, here is Abby by the pool. Note she tries out a dance move about halfway through.

Toasty warm

We just spent a week in the Dominican Republic, at the Santana Beach Hotel and Casino (the Official Resort of that Mariah Carey cover of an Air Supply Song).

More to be said about this later, but some photos can be found here.

Almost one

Abby turns one year old in a couple days, and come to think of it, so does this blog. Been kind of fun so far.

We had a birthday party for her today. Sadly, Owen was as sick as we've ever seen him, and could barely be rousted off the couch.

Here is a typical conversation with Owen:

Parent: How are you feeling, buddy?
Owen: (Cough) meow.
Parent: Would you like some juice?
Owen: Thank you. (Sips the juice.)
(Pause)
Owen: You can go away now.
Parent: Right.

Anyway, Abby enjoyed herself. Here's proof:



And here is some more.

Happy feet

Abby has for some time displayed a rather Pavlovian response to any sort of music. If it's playing, she dances.

Her moves are limited so far.

1) Swaying back and forth while sitting.
2) Swaying back and forth while on hands and knees.

Still, she does them without fail. She can be crawling across a room, and if you happen to kick a toy that belts out a 10-second tune, Abby stops moving and begins swaying.

This is a reasonable demonstration. She doesn't really kick in until near the end, as the camera distracts her a little.

This was bound to happen

Owen has decided that in addition to his given name, he should have a "cat" name, for all those times when he is pretending to be a cat.

His chosen name is "Pussy."

And while that would no doubt increase the number of hits this web site gets via Google searches, I'm trying to talk him into "Patches."

So far he's sticking to his guns.