Saxon the Conqueror Returns!

Yes friends, the rumors are true...I am back from the land of the Saxons with much to report. Did you know that you can ride a tube? Ride in a carseat on the right side of the back seat? Buy things at Asda? Ride a boat to the David Beckham Center for Soccer Excellence? Run wild with packs of children in Hamleys? And eat unlimited amounts of English cheddar? Well, you can. I did that and more!

But I digress, first, we flew over on the plane...which was three hours late. My parents (being the consciencious international travelers that they are) left for the airport two hours before the original departure time. That means, we got to spend five fun-filled hours at JFK WAY, WAY, WAY past my bedtime. Luckily, however, the airport was pretty deserted at that time of night (we didn't leave until midnight) so I set up shop near a empty gate with all my toys spread out and just crawled around to my heart's content. I was sooooo happy and getting soooo much exercise that I didn't really notice that a turbo poop had escaped the diaper and coated the interior of my shirt to the shoulders. Well, I didn't notice it until my mom said, "whew! what stinks?" Next thing I know, I am naked in the middle of Terminal C at JFK while my mom and dad are giving me a wet one wipe down. Refreshing? Yes. Dignified? No.

We got on the plane FINALLY and man was I pumped. I was on NO SLEEP and felt pretty cranky at that point. I was running on fumes and ready to vent my complaints to the general passenger public. They, however, were less than enthused about hearing me complain for the next seven hours. They apparently thought that the flight was meant for sleep. I don't know what kind of box these fellow passengers live in but this baby refuses to be confined, manhandled, controlled, pacified or disciplined. I told my parents just that for three full hours. Just as I was getting to the second sub-point of my verbal oration, mom gave me a refreshing pink aperitif. My eyelids got very heavy and the next thing I remember...

....Me and mom in England! Don't I look refreshed...what a great nap!

Here I am with my English family--Uncle Tim, Dad, Grandma P and Grandad N. They can hardly contain me because I see all of the wonderful items to grab in Uncle Tim and Aunt Rebecca's totally breakable household. So much to break and so little time!

I am quite adept a riding the tube around London as you can see. We were even lucky enough to have a few really sunny days for exploring!

Just three Brits riding the tube!

Aunt Rebecca (isn't she glamourous?) met Grandma P, Grandad N and mom and I for a boat ride to the 02 Dome to see the King Tut exhibit. I must admit now that the exhibit totally escaped me. Luckily, mom brought a totally fascinating piece of paper that kept me entertained for more than an hour. What can I say? I am a baby of simple tastes and paper tastes good.

Dad rented a car one day and we drove South to Brighton. In keeping with British tradition, I also "drove" the car seat on the left side of the backseat...it felt wierd. I noticed that mom and dad didn't speak too much on the drive down or back. Mom just kept murmuring periodically, "right turns are left turns and left turns are right turns." Whatever that means.

Uh oh, just got a bad case of the jet lags. Feeling soooo sleepy. Is it 6 pm or 11 pm? Dinner time or sleep time? I am a little confused. But wait! There is more to tell. I didn't get to tell you about Brighton or Regent's Park or, most importantly, my FIRST BIRTHDAY! I will tell you. But first, I will just put my head down for a little rest and when I wake up, I promise that the story of Saxon the Conqueror will continue....

'night, 'night (or is it day, day?)

Mushy Peas for Me

That is correct Saxontologists. In a mere matter of a hours, I will be airborne to the land of my father's birth and the home of the original Saxons...England.

My mom and dad are taking me to see my Uncle Tim, Aunt Rebecca and grandma and grandad W. We will be staying in a large metropolis not very different from Brooklyn...think Brooklyn with lots and lots of pubs.

You may wonder why I am wearing my bib. Well, as you know, I feel very strongly about my food. I enjoy snacking on all sorts of items...not all of them necessarily accepted as edible. (Plastic, for instance, is mysteriously overlooked as a food group in my opinion.)

While in England, I am looking forward to even more exciting culinary adventures such as mushy peas, stilton cheese, spotted dick and treacle. If I am really lucky, I am hoping to even try a little curry! (My mom has already told my dad that he gets to change THAT diaper.)

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention that I will be turning one year old while I am in England as well. Can you believe it Saxontologists? I am officially a big boy.

In any case, I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. Stay posted on Saxontology for the full story of what happens when a Saxon goes to England.

My Playground

• You might wonder how a baby fills his days in Brooklyn. Of course, I have many activities to keep me busy between naps. However, I do insist that my mom takes me for one particular activity almost every day. I must, without fail, go to the playground around the corner from my house. I always nap better after a little playground time.

When I was a little younger, I could only swing. I liked it well enough but I knew there was more to be done. As soon as I started crawling, a whole new world opened up to me and I started to climb and crawl like the big kids.

I can go down the slide (and I even try to climb up the slide when my mom isn't looking).

I like to climb through the tunnels and peep out the little holes.

I pull myself up on the giant tick tack toe.

I clap for myself (because, let's face it, I am great) in the tunnel.

I pick up all kinds of leaves and debris and try to put it in my mouth before my mom can stop me.

I just can't WAIT until I can run so I can zoooooom around the playground!

Chunky Monkey's Halloween

It is true. As humiliating as it may seem, my mom dressed me up as a fat monkey for Halloween. I had a suspicion that something was up when she was all smiles and happy talk as she reached into the closet and pulled out what can only be described as...horrifying.

Needless to say, the first time I put it on last Saturday to go to the park for a Halloween festival, I could barely conceal my disdain and humiliation.

The stroller could barely contain my girth. Yes, dear Saxontologist, that IS a stuffed banana protruding from my pocket. Where or where will the insult end?

She once again pulled out that horror of monkey suits for playgroup on Tuesday.

Luckily, however, I was in good company. I wasn't the only poor little baby to be dressed in a humiliating outfit. Does this look like a happy lamb to you?

He-man was equally disgusted with his mom for dressing him in of all things...a cow suit. Then, she has the audacity to think that he is going to actually going to go along with it if she calls it a "baby bull." Puh-leeze!

On Halloween night, lots of my friends came over to help give out candy to trick or treaters (we had more than 1000!) . He-man and his mom and dad were there. Who is the bee, you might ask? That is my friend from music class, J.R. (as in...who shot? his mom is from Texas!) J.R. seemed most comfortable with his costume but then again, being the child of artists, this isn't his first flamboyantly striped outfit.

After we ran out of candy, He-man, Sarah and I went upstairs to play. Isn't it amazing how interesting your own toys become when other kids suddenly find them interesting.

He-man swears that he and Sarah had "a moment" and announced today to me at playgroup that he has fallen in love with a certain crazy redhead with a penchant for pink clothing who will remain nameless.

Meanwhile, I was in heaven with all these kids to play with.

Finally, my mom saw that I looked a little woozy and she took my hood off. You might notice how my sweaty hair is matted to my head. We were taking our play quite seriously!

Here is Adam (isn't he getting big?) and his mommy, Aunt Kate.

And finally, this is why every child should disown his mother completely and totally by the age of 12 years old. Otherwise, this is the sort of humiliating evidence that will definitely be shown to potential girlfriends. Big deal, so I was a little engrossed in play and neglected to notice that my costume had slipped in strategically unfortunate places. Did we really have to get photographic evidence to capture the moment for posterity? Bad mommy.