A little perspective

Although I missed that trip to Hawaii, I guess things could be worse.

I have made it clear to mom that she needs to be careful not to get busted.

What if?

Dear Readers,

I'm sure many of you are wondering the same thing I was this Christmas Day... what if? What if my parents had taken me to Kauai with the rest of Dad's family? What if I had been lucky enough to tread the sands of Baby Beach?

Thanks to the wonders of technology, I can offer you an artist's rendering of what that would have been like if I had gone to Hawaii...


... and if I were carrying a Mr. Potato Head; and, uh, if I were very large; and if I had traveled back in time to about 1957.

Sigh.

Christmas did happen here. I will post about it just as soon as I get over what didn't happen. And as soon as I hire a new graphic artist.

--Maddie

Dear Reader,

You may notice certain significant details in today's photo, assuming you can tear yourself away from my startlingly cute self:


First, I have achieved grownuphood, having left behind my high chair for a booster seat.

Second, and in the same vein, I am drinking from a cup with a straw, and have almost learned that I don't have to tip it up.

Finally, Daddy has started me on Hebrew -- but he says I won't have to parse anything until I turn two.

--Maddie

Take me to your cookies

Dear readers,

Mom and Dad made me this fabulous new hat yesterday:


They said something about shielding my brain from the impatient, hungry space aliens who seem to be controlling my thoughts.

--Maddie

Brains and Braun

Today, with some misgivings, I am turning over my blog to Daddy Scribe...

They grow up so fast! Where does the time go? It seems like one day your little girl is a babe in arms, and the next she's shaving:


Anyway, here's a snippet of conversation from the car today, when we stopped at a red light:

Maddie: GO!

Dad: Maddie, what color is the light?

M: Wed.

D: Right, and what does a red light mean?

M: GO!

D: Maddie, you know that red means stop. Green means go.

(Light turns green.)

M: Geen! GOOOOOOOO!

What a Thanksgiving it was. I was clear on what I wanted...


...but I finished Thanksgiving dinner in about five minutes, and then wanted everyone to come play with me: "What do you mean you haven't even had a bite of your mashed potatoes yet? Get with the program!"

We all cheered for Duke's very excellent start to the basketball season...


...and tried to ignore Duke's very bad end to the football season.

I also found my perfect ride...


...and tickled the ivories with the Artist Formerly Known as Gandalf:



As you can see, I needed an assistant to turn my sheet music for me. I am presently accepting applications for that position.

--Maddie

My fifteen minutes are ticking...

For now, you can go to Duke Basketball Report and see my picture live. If they've taken it down, you can click on the image above to enlarge.

My campaign to make the Duke women's team one day is going nicely...

--Maddie

Hallo-whee!

Pictures better be worth a lot of words...

...because the scribe says he is too burned out from writing job letters to transcribe my thoughts. He also says that I am learning to talk and will probably soon be calling each of you to to tell you what I think, anyway.




With Brennan and Catherine at the GA Apple Festival:



This is me and mom on the dry bed of what used to be Lake Blue Ridge. Drought = real bad.



The scribe says he wouldn't know what to say about this one even if he were in the mood to write something:


Maddie out, yo.

My first modeling gig

Click to enlarge.

To buy: http://www.tinyrevolutionary.com/

For Gram

I can tell you how to get, how to get to Sesame Street

Actually, that title is a lie. I can't tell you how to get there, because I think the Atlanta Children's Museum packed it up and sent it away. But I and about 15,000 other Atlanta kids packed the last weekend of the exhibit, and what a time it was! I got to play with rubber sand...


...and meet some of my favorite television personalities in their own neighborhood (doesn't it look like Elmo had designs on my bag of Goldfish?)...


And it was all thanks to Cameron and Cader, who are excellent tour guides in the world of Sesame Street:


Certain other things happened that I am having a hard time getting my head around...

... but I won't dwell on that.

Remember, dear readers, when life seems like a hard climb, at least you're going upwards.

Sagging

If you've got your ear to the ground (and I know my readers do), you've heard about the international scandal surrounding "sagging," in which Atlanta is one of the major battlegrounds.

I would just like my South Dekalb peeps to know that I am keeping it very real here at "The 1-1-6-2" . . .


And I want to tell the Five-Oh that I will not have my civil liberties or freedom of self-expression infringed upon. I have Billy Martin* on my speed dial just in case.

God bless us, every one,

The Madster

* -- No, Gandalf, not that Billy Martin.

Just because...

The theme continues

Today's Peanuts suggests that my theory about beginner's luck may have been correct...

--Maddie

p.s. Thanks, Gram, for calling this important piece of data to my attention.

I'm not saying... I'm just saying

I'm not saying I have a direct, BatPhone-type line to the Big Being Upstairs, but half an hour after that last post we got a little cloudburst, and the next day we got our first real rainstorm in months...

Again, I'm not saying I'm so important. Maybe you get a freebie the first time, or it's beginner's luck... I'm just saying...

--Maddie

Dear God

Dear God,

Please stop.

I know many Atlantans have probably done many bad things that deserve your wrath, but will you indeed dessicate the righteous with the wicked?

Or are you just confused? This is not Death Valley!

Please, please stop. The slides at the playground are too hot to use.

Maddie

Dawg days

It's hot. Haawwwwwttttt...


Paloma says she doesn't know why they call them "dog days." Mostly we stay inside and do things like try new hairstyles...


Also, Mama has been on a baking kick, and I am doing my best to help:


That escapade, however, led to this horrific assault:



Transcription: "All done! All done! All done!"

--Maddie

Summer stumbles to a close

Dear Friends,

What does the end of summer mean? Many things, many things...

It means that it's time to go back to church (sorry, all you ministers out there, I'm just writing what I observe).


It means I'm growing up -- 17 months! (Hold your hand over the bottom half of the photo and you can imagine I'm all grown up!)


It means eking out a few more days of summer fun -- a little splashing in the backyard kiddie pool, a little Goldfish snack, and a little time with Jean Bottero's Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia. Good times for a scholar's baby...

(not posed)

It also means that I've been sent to a detainment camp, a.k.a. "daycare." I am not amused by this mutinous action on the part of my servants. I will update this story in the future...

--Maddie

Belatedly, the beach

Dear Reader,

These photos are a little overdue... oh well. Sometimes I feel completely overwhelmed by my busy schedule of opening up every cabinet in the house and pulling everything out. But then I think, If I don't do these things, who will? And that re-energizes me.

Right, anyway... the beach. It will make one feel small and insignificant...


...I hate that feeling. So I tried to figure out how to dominate the ocean. Mostly this involved running around in the surf...


...and jumping in the waves as much as my overprotective parents would allow.


Dad pulled me out of the way of so many incoming waves that he threw his back out for the first time in his life. I am going to have to put him on a workout regimen so we don't continue to experience these sorts of letdowns.

I am not going to claim to that I succeeded in conquering the sea. We'll call it a draw for now. One day I will have a boat... those seem to help:


In any case, I looked fabulous while I was at the beach, thanks to the chic babykini that Aunt Abby sent me:


It was a great week, all in all, thanks largely to Gram and the Cheeky Cheeks (Sue, Ali, Char and Tim) who doted most appropriately on me. In this photo from Shackleford Island, I believe they were simultaneously feeding me and applying sunscreen, as I proclaimed my Noo Yawk roots:


Ciao for now,

Maddie

Madzilla

(click to enlarge)

What's all this about? It's sixteen months later, and I'm still big. How big?

... so big that an acquaintance said to my dad this week, "I didn't know you had two kids -- where's the baby?" And he wasn't kidding.

... so big that I tower over the older boys in the nabe.

... so big that I am entering the "terrible twos" a bit early.

... so big that I am calling nurses' competence into question. I went to the doctor last week and lay very still while they measured me on the piece of paper. They marked at my feet and my head and measured the length: 34 inches. When the doctor came in he looked at the number, shook his head, and made a mark on the growth chart, far above the shaded parts of the graph.

Dad said: "Does this mean she's going to be six feet tall?" Mom rolled her eyes.

The doctor laughed and said: "No, probably not. You can get a better idea just by averaging your two heights." (Um, that would be 5'10", by the way.)

Dad said: "But isn't there supposed to be some age -- 18 months or two years or something -- where you can double the kid's height and get their adult height?"

The doctor frowned and said: "Well, yes, but I think this number is perhaps a little inflated. Maybe it was the way they measured it. The head measurement seems too large, too. That would have to have been an unbelievable growth spurt."

I smiled at the nice doctor, who is significantly shorter than 5'10". Have you ever seen me pack away corn, little man? I am going to play volleyball for Stanford, and rule the world.

OK, first I am going to learn how to spoon yogurt into my mouth rather than onto my chest. But after that, I am going to rule the world.

I am Madster, hear me roar.

--Maddie

p.s. I am a slim and ladylike 90th percentile in weight.

p.p.s. I'm not paying any royalties, but in case you were wondering, click here.

Summer in Hardtown

My scribe is back from his selfishly indulgent trip to Israel, and we are living it up despite the heat and humidity in Dur-ham (that means "Hard-town," unless my Latin fails me--and maybe it does).

The scribe attempted to ingratiate himself to me with gifts from the (Near) Orient, but it wasn't exactly gold, frankincense or myrrh. He did bring me a fabu new robe, though, with faux gold embroidery...


...and he also brought me lotions and therapeutic mud from the Dead Sea. The mud was horrible! Stinky and stinging. You can see that I was not amused:


What does a baby need skincare products for, anyway? Isn't baby-soft skin what all you old people want? To make up for the mud fiasco, Dada took me to a baseball game. I tried to stay up for the fireworks afterward, but my entourage took me home to bed...


Mostly in hot, humid Hardtown we hung out at the pool. Here's a typical vignette:



Note, if you can, what the sign says at the start of the video. Sixteen months old, and already breaking the law. Well, Mom's been predicting a life of crime for me for quite some time... Thankfully, the lifeguards thought I was cute and didn't bust me. Neither the first nor the last time!

More soon -- we have some catching up to do, you and I.

--Maddie

Stopgap: Letter from Dada

Well, I'm on the road later today, heading for Durham, but I thought I would throw a bone to all of you who are jonesing for any detail about my life. This is not exactly about my life, but Dada wrote me a letter that touches on baby culture, so I thought I would share it with you:

"Dear Maddie,

"I went to Jerusalem last weekend and thought of you every day. Aren't you glad that you live in a place where your caretaker doesn't have to carry a gun?


"But although the region has its problems, don't worry about me -- I feel totally safe. Also, you will be glad to know that Israel is a cosmopolitan place; they have all the hallmarks of an advanced culture:


"Dada climbed through a big dark tunnel while he was in Jerusalem. It even had a stream running through it -- it was crazy! He looked something like this:


"However, he took heart because a tiny person up ahead of him reminded him of you and your braveness:


"Well, I miss you, tiny Madster, and I'll see you soon. Take care of Mama and your grandparents,

"--Dada"

Scribe goes on sabbatical

My scribe is leaving town for a month! Worse, he's taking the camera. You know what this means... you'll have to watch the tabloid gossip columns to get your Maddie fix during June.

Ciao for now,

The Madster

I have a new hero

Words fail me.

--Maddie

p.s. Do not click on that link if you are over 40, or if you generally find Will Ferrell unwatchable.

Up on the airplane, nearer my God to thee

My parents risked our lives this past weekend by taking me on my first airplane flight. No, the risk wasn't from air travel, which is safer than car travel, especially when the driver is cooing at a toddler in the rearview mirror. No, the risk was from our fellow travelers, who mom and dad sincerely feared might lynch us if things didn't go well. Thankfully, I was OK once I got on the plane. The gate, not so good. But it's all a memory now...

Naturally I wanted to take as much of this experience as possible on my own two feet...


Why did we fly on Memorial Day weekend, you ask? For my uncle Dave's fabulous wedding in Pittsburgh, where Franco Harris was in attendance. Yes, that Franco Harris. Though, depending on which of the women in the family you asked, he was Frankie Harris or Frank O'Hara... We Hays women have to master college basketball -- surely that's enough.

I'm getting sidetracked. It was a super-fabu weekend. I got acclimated to hotel life...


...Mom and I made ourselves beautiful...


... and I admired the fruits of our labor.


Then I watched pretty ladies strut on a catwalk...


...and worshiped Aunt Jane's fabulous sparkly shoes.


Finally, we tore up the dance floor at the reception:


Bedtime? What bedtime?

--Maddie