The Big Boy Goes Grocery Shopping

Yup, that's me! Sitting like a big boy in the grocery cart! I helped my dad get groceries on Sunday. While we were cruising the aisles, I noticed that I was positioned for optimal shopping FROM the cart. All I had to do was put out my hand and grab! Consequently, I decided to pick out a few of my own choice items to add into the mix of weekly grocery purchases. Unfortunately, dad, in his infuriatingly understated English way, put them back without explanation. Why wouldn't a baby enjoy some hot sauce on his rice cereal? What's so wrong with escargot? Escarwho? Dog food is so specific....the picture on the package looks good enough to eat. It may say Purina Dog Chow but all I can see are delicious kibbles drizzled in sauce. Who says a baby is immune to the lure of attractive packaging?


Here I am with my dad after grocery shopping. Note how pleased he looks with the grocery selection while I am clearly less than impressed.....no hot sauce, no escargot and, tragically, no delicious dog chow.

Saxon Swims Again!

This weekend, we went back to the lake! I got into the water with my dad and splashed and splashed. I think I am really getting good at this water thing! Here I am hanging out with my mom at the lake.















Here I am after my swim. I would say that my dad wore me out but out of the frame of this photo is my dad totally crashed out in the bed next to me!

Assume the Position

So, they tell me this is how a baby crawls. So far, I haven't really figured out how to move from this position. I rock back and forth and then I flop on my tummy. My mom says "any day now, you will be crawling!" Yeah, right, lady, this isn't as easy as it looks!

I have no idea what I am doing here but I look fabulous doing it...don't you agree? (Can't you see how impressed Kiki is in the background?)

My Sitter, My Yogi

Note the happy and blissed out expression on my face. Now, notice that it is NOT my mom sitting next to me. Why? Well, dear reader(s), this is my zen master, my yogi, my teacher, my spiritual guide...Nicole. My mother (who is quite limited in her understanding of spiritual awareness) mistakenly calls her my babysitter.

Nicole comes to see me every Tuesday for a few hours. Usually, I am asleep when she arrives and when I wake up...she magically appears. We hang out, play with my wide array of toys and generally contemplate deeper issues of inner peace. My mom returns a few hours later after running errands. Can you believe that she actually claims there are places that she cannot bring a baby? Ridiculous!

But I digress...when my mom returns, I am blissed out and peaceful thanks to Nicole. Of course, this tranquility only lasts a few hours because, eventually, dinner comes along and then....well, its time to start screaming for food. Of course, Dad comes home around that time and I have to get amped up to tell him all about my day.

However, Tuesday afternoons are Saxontime. No cut throat scurrying for swings at the playground. No one judging me by what I drive (i.e. my stroller). No social insecurity that other babies are staring at my water soaked diaper after I sit in the park fountain. Nicole accepts me for who I am...a Brooklyn baby looking for serenity now.

Office Drugery?

Every morning, my dad gets up, takes a shower, puts on a funny neck scarf and takes the poodles out to pee. When he comes back and stops by the crib to see me, he says, "good bye monkey, I am going to work."

Now, I gotta be honest, I have always wondered what this "work" thing is. From what I can tell, it involves alot of preparation, takes up lots of time and seems to be never ending! I can't seem to stick to playing with one toy for more than about five minutes. I really don't understand how dad can keep doing the same work thing day after day. I have asked my mom a million times to explain the "work" concept but, unfortunately, it comes out as "bahbahbah." So, obviously, her answer is useless.

Last Friday, however, mom came up with the brilliant idea of visiting dad at his work! We loaded up in the carrier and off we went. I liked the rocking of the subway and yelled and sang all the way to Rockefeller Center. The other riders on the subway thought that I was quite entertaining and, of course, I thought that I was a superstar! When we got to work, I met all kinds of nice people and even got a few books from my new friend Barbara! My dad showed me his office and I pounded on the computer keyboard. Work seems pretty interesting after all. Particularly because it involves the use of many little fascinating items scattered on the desktop. (I really tried to put them in my mouth but dad whisked them away too fast.) We sat at his desk and contemplated how we might become masters of the universe together. Then, I got hungry. So, we packed up again and headed back to Brooklyn.

We had dinner together at a nearby restaurant and Mom and Dad toasted their "anniversary." They told me that they were very glad that I could make it this year to celebrate it with them. I smiled and giggled and said the usual...bahbahbah.

Now, can anyone clarify this "anniversary" concept for me?

I have a new cousin!

Do not fear, dear reader(s), I am not shrinking. This is my new cousin, Adam Omar Boulamaali, who was born on July 11, 2007. He weighed 7 lbs. 2 oz. Auntie Kate says that he is a very good little boy and lets her sleep four hours a night. I tried to tell him that sleep is overrated and that mommies are made to be woken up but...he drifted off to sleep before I could pursuade him.

Here I am with my new cousin, Adam, my older cousin, Sarah, and my Auntie Kate. My mom tried to convince me that I was just about that small not too long ago but I really don't believe her. I am too HUGE to have been so small!

Mommies and Kiddies. Cousins and Aunties.

This is my older, smarter, stronger, more beautiful and oh-so-slightly bossier cousin Sarah playing with G Squared . I think Sarah is awesome. She can walk by herself, color with markers, sing songs, dress herself and...believe it or not, use the potty. When she talks, everyone understands exactly what she is saying. (When I say stuff, mom and dad just answer me with nonsensical gibberish like "bahbahbah." It is very frustrating sometimes.) I especially like to watch her when she gets emotional or dramatic (which is often). It is totally better than TV. Sometimes, when she is in the right mood, she puts on one of her MANY pink dresses and "Dances with the Stars." And now, lucky duck, she a baby brother to begin training to be her dance partner!

It is not okay to pick someone else's nose

Dear He-man,

Thank you very much for having me over to your house yesterday to play. I really enjoyed playing with your wide variety of toys...I will discuss this particular issue in more detail a bit later. I was also very impressed with your crawling skills and was enchanted, quite frankly, with your graceful cruising along the side of your crib and amongst the furniture. In retrospect, however, I realize that my social inexperience may have caused a few awkward moments between us that I feel compelled now to redress. Okay, the truth is my mom had a word with me on the way home and said that I had a few apologies to make.

Number one: I now understand (after further discussion with my mom) that it is socially unacceptable to pick someone else's nose. I really have to plead ignorance on this one. I have played with the poodles in the past and they never seemed to take issue with me putting my hands and fingers all over their face. However, in my defense, their nostrils are slightly smaller and I haven't really had the opportunity to put my finger up there before. I have come to understend that this is not okay to do to people. People are not poodles. I am crystal clear on this now and promise not to do this in future.

Number two: I have come to learn that manhandling and/or sparring for a particularly interesting toy is also somewhat taboo during playdates. This is not the first time that I have appreciated your fine connoiseur-like taste in toys. I have noticed at our playdates in the past that the toys your mom brought were stimulating and yet, understated, with a subtle whiff of the educational. Therefore, given my clear appreciation (and not unsubtle envy) for your toys, I hope that you can forgive my momentary lapse in judgement which led me to physically wrestle that captivating little xylophone out of your grasp as you screamed and begged me not to. I was, quite simply, a man possessed.

In sum, I hope that the socially inappropriate gestures made by myself during our last playdate will not negatively impact our fledgling friendship. You are a dear friend who has shown me great compassion and warmth. You are also my only friend. As I am writing this and contemplating the possibility that our friendship might cease because of a few social faux pas, I find that I am crying uncontrollably. No wait...actually, is that the time? It's nap time. I cry uncontrollably at this time every day. You, of all people, can therefore understand that I must go now. Nothing comes between me and my nap...not even an epic friendship such as ours.

With warmest regards,
the Saxonator