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

Yellow River Park

Dear Reader,

It seems somewhat perverse to give the name "The Yellow River" to any river in which small children wade. Nevertheless, I had a nice time.


I hear that an 18-year-old girl and her father summited Mt. Everest together this week. That's nice and all, don't get me wrong... but did he carry her?



I wanted to go straight, but mom and dad made me turn left:


Happy trails to you!

--Maddie

Eat... more! Eat... more! Eat... more!

Mom rented this video for me and I learned a couple of useful words. The first was "more" and the second was "eat."

Yes, I learned the signs, too.

-- Maddie

I am delicious

It came to my attention this morning when Dad returned from Starbucks (no, it's not every morning he does that; we're not that fabulous; we were just out of coffee grounds) that I have not only shoes named after me (see below), but also cookies.

Well -- "petite French cakes," if you prefer Starbucks' marketing pablum:


I find the thought inescapable that all of you were out there, waiting, just wondering when I was going to find this out... these little cookies are delightful, after all. (Unlike my namesake shoes, I have firsthand experience with these.) Cat's out of the bag now, but you could have said something, you know! What will I find out next?

Au revoir,

Maddie

No pressure, but I'm dying here

I don't want either of my grandmothers to feel that they aren't working hard enough for me, but .... a fabulous life doesn't just happen, you know. Like a Hollywood movie, it requires a cast of "little people" to make the magic work*... it requires, in my humble opinion, a flying granny nanny or two.

In other news, I am sick. (If you work for Georgia DFCS, please stop reading. Now. Thank you.) I had a 102 degree temperature last night, but Mom thought she had just cranked up the heater too high, so she tried blowing on my back to cool me down. Best idea she's had since she put Vaseline and cornstarch in my hair. Good times, good times!

I am going to pull through thanks to a miracle drug called Tylenol, but I may need a granny nanny to save me from my parents...

--Maddie

* -- No, not little like me. I am large in spirit.

Maddie-ness in the world of fashion

Michael Jordan and I have shoes named after us... do you?

The J. Crew Maddie espadrille:


I can't pronounce "espadrille" yet, but I'm sure they're fabulous.

--Maddie

The ants go marching three by three...

I went on my first hike today, and I walked the whole way:


...thanks to emergency raisin rations, I had plenty of energy.


Well, maybe I didn't quite walk the whole way...


...but I did make myself useful by carrying the water bottle:


--Maddie

Caption contest #2

Enter your caption in the comments field!

Flowers, fountains and frogs

This weekend I went to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, where I saw many fabulous and amazing things.


I am very fearless:


Mostly I tried to go everywhere as fast as possible. Why are you grownups so slow all the time?


I am only a thistle now, but I am going to be a sunflower...


Still, the highlight of the day was taming the fountain. You can see from this video that I had to not only deal with the fountain, but also with certain interlopers...



Hope your spring is going fabulously, too!

--Maddie

The latest research

Dear Reader,

I suspect that you have come to rely on this blog for breaking news and research on the world of babies and children. We continue that tradition today by referring you to the latest data on child abuse.

I am limited in what I can say publicly, but let me just say that I am familiar with some of the conditions reported in the article.

Maddie

A time to gather eggs together

On Easter, after I slept through church, we went to fabulous Alpharetta to hang out with the Amazing Andersons, who were able to lead a worship service and host us on the same day -- yes, the Andersons have mighty powers, no doubt developed in their epic adventures with their own children.

They even set up an Easter egg hunt for us kids. Let me tell you my Easter egg hunting philosophy: More than one egg per hand is wasted. Better is a handful with quiet than two handfuls with toil. I have seen the children piling up many eggs, but this too is vanity, and a chasing after chocolate.*


This also I saw: Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.


Anyway, I thought all was vanity... until I found the biggest egg of all:


--Maddie

* -- Mom says I can't have chocolate. Then tonight she bought me my own ice cream cone at Jake's, so I'm not sure I can discern the underlying principle at work here.

A whirlwind Holy week