Oh, Those False Alarms!

Every time I think I'll have time to blog, something comes up, but in the past few weeks, Michael has successfully mastered toddling. He embarked on his upright, hands-free adventures right after my husband and I returned from an enjoyable trip to NYC, and he's been increasing his endurance and momentum ever since!

Last weekend, I was craving something sinful for breakfast, so I grabbed a small bag of donuts including one red jelly-filled. I ate the jelly-filled donut in a napkin to catch the crumbs, and I also caught a big glop of red goo. Somehow I got distracted, and the napkin never quite made it to the garbage where it belonged. I forgot completely about it.

A few moments later, Michael approached me while I was sitting on the sofa. On his way over, he lost his balanced and bumped his head on the coffee table before doing one of his famous stunt rolls onto the floor. Tears ensued, Nani came over to check things out licking Michael's face thoroughly to help any of his wounds feel better, and from seemingly out of nowhere the napkin resurfaced. Nani had started to eat it, and alarmed, I grabbed it from her jaws.

I saw this mysterious bright red spot on the napkin and suddenly became frightened that he had seriously injured himself on the coffee table. I checked Michael from head to toe and saw no sign of an open wound. Still surprised and puzzled, I jogged my memory and solved my mini mystery.

Stupid jelly donut, or rather stupid mommy. That'll teach me to put my trash where it belongs!

Resurrection - Breathing New Life Into My Blog and Recounting Michael's First Egg Hunt

I have neglected my blog for no apparent reason other than I haven't made time for it.

In the past few months, Michael has made great, great strides. He's sprouted 6 teeth, and we almost had a white -[capped] New Year's as a result of his budding pearls.

He's perfected the wounded soldier scoot and has become my own human Swiffer. I have had to organize his wardrobe into three tiers: 1) fancy clothes that are for special occasions that rarely get worn; 2) clothes that are nice enough to be worn out in public that will fool others into thinking that we rarely get ourselves dirty; and 3) those that are used for mopping my floors. As he gets more vertical, my floors will suffer in different ways and will probably miss his own brand of TLC that he currently gives them, but I'll look forward to the possibility of fewer unconcealable stains that start at his chin and end at his belly button.

Easter is right around the corner, and in celebration, we participated in Michael's first Easter egg hunt yesterday. At this age (10 1/2 months), it was really much less of a hunt and more of a themed tactile exploration for the pre-walking babies at the celebration where the hunt was held. All of the other pre-walkers that were present were either napping or far less mobile than he giving him an unfair advantage. He was placed in the center of a blue tarp with plastic filled eggs spread about and one golden egg "hidden" among them. The golden egg was a prize egg, and he or she who found it would get a great reward.

Once he was turned loose, he scooted around touching and mouthing an egg here and there before moving on to the more fascinating objects like leaves and sticks. I tried to turn his attention to the eggs, but he paid little mind to them in favor of logs and rocks. Eventually, he caught on as I filled his basket with a few of the eggs. I tried to point him in the direction of the golden egg two or three time, but he wasn't interested. I didn't want to be selfish and thought of letting another baby "find" it.

It was a funny sight to see him scrambling for nature's objects versus the man-made fun plastic objects that were right in front of him. I tried in vain to keep his eye on the prize and eventually succeeded when he wound up with the golden egg in his hand, which he wound up putting into the basket by some fluke of nature. In the end, we were rewarded with an Easter basket filled with stuff for David and me to enjoy. I'll leave it for the Easter Bunny to deliver on Sunday morning, so that Michael can at least play with the stuffed puppy dog that's inside.