Sorry no posts so far from us guest bloggers. Technology mocked us yesterday and Tammy’s entry didn’t post. Will try to retrieve it later and share with the blogsphere.
We have a short window of opportunity here before we strap little Julia into her car seat and head to a pool party in Westchester.
Julia, 8 mos old, is a stellar baby in all regards. But lately she has begun rebelling against her car seat, at least in her mother’s car. And today, in similar fashion, she raised holy hell in her jogging stroller. Like a banshee she was.
She must have been overtired, in desparate need of a nap, but by the time we made it to the park on the Hudson in Upper Nyack she decided she had had enough. Unfortunately for all of us, we still had to return home, a couple of miles away.
Loud, throat-gurgling cries emanated from her stroller, as I picked up the pace. Tammy, lucky girl, was lagging some distance behind us, out of earshot. We began happening upon walkers, joggers and bicyclists heading the opposite direction. Some, impassive behind their stupid sun glasses, ignored the wailing. Others looked alarmed. One woman on a bicycle peered inside the stroller and appeared ready to call the police.
What child abuse! What kind of man puts of man puts his conditioning above his child’s happiness?
Lady, I’m trying to get home.
Julia chugged a little formula and then went to sleep when we got home. Now she’s standing in her crib and babbling to herself, watching me type. She likes to stand in her crib. Feels empowering. Which is great, because it gives Tammy and I break from chasing her around the living room as she motors after flip-flops and sneakers to suck on. Or heads for the hardest piece of furniture she can bonk her head on.
Time to slip her into her new bathing suit, the one with the seahorse on the front. Maybe we can post a picture later.
Apt. 11d 