Stair-Steppin'!

It's me, Zoe, live on the stairs!

Hiya, Friends! 

Hey, you know what?  I love the stairs!  They're really great!  When I'm on a bottom floor, they take me up to another level, and when I'm up, they bring me back to the ground. 

Stairs fascinate me. 

I'd think that Mommy would be THRILLED that I have such an affinity for stairs, you know?  It seems like an advanced skill, being able to climb up and down a case of stairs.  It requires balance, strength, sure-footedness, and nerves of steel.

As a baby, I mighta had the nerve, but the balance, strength and sure-footedness had to grow in, kinda like my hair.

Um, no, I wasn't climbing on the stairs, Mommy!

So Big People, tell me why Mommy freaks out when she sees me on the stairs.  Why is it she gates off our stairs in our house and insists upon carrying me up them and down them.  I'm perfectly capable of going up and down 'em myself!  Jeez!

You know, when I learned to roll over, Mommy practically threw a party.  That was just going from sunny-side up to over-easy and back again.  And she was ready to break out the balloons and confetti and ticker tape. 

When I sat up on my own for the first time, Mommy clapped and told me I did great!  Sitting up!  Really?!

Walking. Mommy made a really big deal out of it the day I started walking.  That was good.  That, I understand.  Walking requires a lot of the same skills as climbing stairs.  But I feel as though climbing and descending stairs is like Walking: The Next Level, and I cannot for the life of me understand why walking gets me cheered and maybe even a dish of icy-peem, and climbing on the stairs makes Mommy shriek and grab me up and gate off the whole works.

I was sitting here the whole time!

Talk about mixed messages!  Learn this!  Wait, don't learn that!  Forget you ever knew that!  Now learn these letters!  Stay away from the stairs! 

Sometimes, I feel like I'm darned if I do, darned if I don't!

Friends, I'm just a simple little kid.  I love to learn.  I love to explore.  I love to realize I can do things today that I couldn't do yesterday.  I'm not on the stairs all the time to drive Mommy nuts or to scare her.  I'm there because the stairs present me with a tangible obstacle, and when I conquer them, I feel as though I've taken about fifteen steps forward and up at a comfortable yet efficient angle of climb.

It's about me.  It's not about Mommy.  You'd think she'd have figured that out by now, and that she'd be a little more supportive when it comes to me learning this new skill.  That's what I think, anyway!

I love ya, Friends!  Muah!

Lighten Up!

Growing up is serious stuff, Friends!

Friends, I'll tell ya what.  Learning new stuff is serious business.  Why, just yesterday, when I was writing my Two Hundredth Post, I was thinking about all the new things I've learned since I started doing this web log. 

It was kinda fun, reaching all the way back to my first post.  Goodness, I was so little and chubby.  Can you believe it?  And my hair!  Holy smokes, I hardly had any hair!

Looking at that picture of me as a kid, I remembered that back last September, I didn't even know how to walk yet!  How about that?!  I started walking down to Aunt Colleen's house, all the way in October.  It seemed like such a big deal, then, taking those first few steps and then falling down on my bottom (thank goodness Pampers are fluffy!), and then getting back up again.  Now, I pretty much run everywhere I go, and it's so easy!

I didn't know the alphabet back then.  I couldn't count to ten.  I knew what colors were, but I wasn't sure about their names.  I tried Mommy's trick when she forgets names, calling the girls "Sweetie" and the boys "Sport" but as it turns out, colors aren't really boys or girls, even pink and blue.  They're just colors, really.  So it made no sense whatsoever to try calling them Sweetie or Sport or Gertrude or Harold.

I've had to learn their real names, and I'm getting it right.  I still like to mess with Mommy's head and tell her that blue things are red or green things are purple.  It's a lot of fun.

Let's see.  Back when I first started writing to you all, I didn't know how to eat Big People Food.  I ate most of my meals all zizzed up in the blender, or out of pouches.  Those were crazy times.  Now, I eat fruits and vegetables and food just like Mommy and Daddy do!  I love fish and tomatoes and BANANAS!

What I'm saying is that this has all been big, serious stuff.  But I haven't let it deter me from cultivating my lighter side.  I think it's more fun going through this life if you get to have fun.  So in that mindset, please enjoy the following photograph of yours truly, your pal Zoe, walking on the sunny side of the street and using my red wooden ball from my Stacking Color Rings as a clown-nose:

You're witnessing Pure Comedic Gold right here, Friends!

There you have it, Big People! I hope you'll come back and see me tomorrow.  I can't tell ya what's in store, because honestly, I don't know.  But come back, and we'll see, together.  I love ya!  Muah!

Two-Hundred Posts!

Hey! I found my missing crayon today, too, besides having 200 posts!

Friends, I hafta apologize.  I feel like we should all have an ice-cream cake or something, but I don't have any ice-cream cakes, so I can't offer you any.  Today's kind of a big deal.  A Special Occasion.

What's that? ... Well, yes, it's Saturday.  And I love Saturdays, and Saturdays are special, all on their own, I suppose, but that isn't it.  That isn't why I'm all kinds of excited, and wishing I had an ice-cream cake to serve to everybody.

No, my Great Big Deal today is that this is my TWO-HUNDREDTH POST!  Holy moly!  I thought I was on a roll when I posted my 100th post.  I think I even might have called myself "The Postess with the Mostess!"

Little did I know that there'd be another hundred posts added, over the next few months, and that maybe bestowing that title upon myself would be kind of hyperbolic, when all's I had were a mere One-Hundred posts to my name.

Oopsies.

Well, now, I'm older and wiser, and I realize that after One Hundred, there's a Two Hundred, so today, as I write my Two-Hundredth Post, I realize that with any luck, there'll be Three Hundred, and so on and so on.  I know it's been dodgy a coupla times, and that there was a good stretch of time where calling this blog the "Daily" anything was a stretch, but I've been on a good roll lately, haven't I?  Sundays, holidays, vacation at a lake house... I've been here, writing to you!

Don't you go anywhere, Friends!  I'll be back, right here, tomorrow!

So in light of this milestone, I'd like to pause and take a moment to thank everybody who reads "The Daily Zoe Blog" for stickin' with me.  You keep me going.  You really do, Friends!  I love hearing from people.  I love running into you when I'm out and about.  Especially when I run into you at the Texas Hot in Downtown Wellsville.  Gosh, I love that place!

That was a close one.  I almost got myself of-task, thinking about the Texas Hot.  Anyway, Friends, you've been with me through a lot.  You've encouraged me through lots of things I thought were new and scary, at first, and I know that won't stop.  In a few weeks, I'm gonna be turning Two Years Old.  Phwew.  I guess there's all kindsa new stuff to encounter and experience.  I'd be flipping-out-scared about it right now, Friends, but I know you'll be with me, every step of the way.  And I love ya for it!

I'll see ya tomorrow, Friends!  Muah!

Pee-yesss:  If ya run into an ice-cream cake today, getchyerself a slice and think of me while you eat it, mmmmmkay?! xoxo, your pal Zoe!

Walk A Mile In Somebody's Shoes!

I'm gonna walk a mile in somebody else's shoes today!

Hiya, Friends!

Well, you know that saying "walk a mile in that person's shoes?"  I'm sure you do.  Everybody does.  And I wanted to try it out.  I picked Daddy's shoes, because they were the handiest, and because I could find the left shoe and the right shoe fairly readily.  Mommy's shoes were in a big jumble.

It's true!  I could find the left one to this pair, but the right one was somewhere else.  There were a couple pairs of shoes that looked similar, but once I had 'em paired up, I found out they were slightly different.

Daddy's one pair of shoes was right there, all matched up like a sane person set 'em out, so I put 'em on, just like that!

I could probably water-ski in these! Hope I don't trip!

As it turns out, that was the easy part.  Actually walking even a few steps in Daddy's shoes was nighontabein' impossible.  First of all, they were way too big.  Second of all, I nearly tripped over my own feet.  Finally, once I got a good left-right-left-right rhythm going, I walked right the heck outta those shoes.

So much for walking a mile in Daddy's shoes!

It got me curious, though, about where that saying came from.  You know what I mean?  As it turns out, it's part of a longer saying: Don't judge a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes.

Well.  Like I iterated before, and what I'll reiterate now, is that at least the person's shoes I chose to walk in made it impossible to make it from the door to the living room in them, let alone a whole mile.  I mean, they weren't my shoes!  Daddy bought those shoes after he tried 'em on so they'd fit HIS feet, and so that HE could walk a mile or more in them!  And then, after they were bought and worn, they sort of shaped themselves to Daddy's feet!  I hear this is how it works for shoes.

Besides that, Daddy's shoes weren't even designed for somebody like me!

Nuts to this!  I'll walk a mile in my OWN shoes!

It seems kinda silly for somebody to try walking in somebody else's shoes, now that I've tried it, and it hasn't worked out for me.

Maybe what the saying is trying to say is that people shouldn't be so judgy about each other, because it's impossible for one person to really see or experience things from the same vantage point as another person.  So I oughtta just mind my own beeswax, you oughtta mind your own beeswax, and that nosy Gladys Kravitz oughtta mind her own beeswax, for sure!  I think that's what that saying's trying to get at. 

Woah.

You know what, Friends?  I think I need to let all that sink in.  I think I'm gonna go for a little walk to get my head around that.  I might walk a mile.  I know I'm gonna do it in my OWN shoes!

See ya tomorrow!  Muah!

Carseat Etiquette

Friends, if I don't get outta this carseat soon, I'm gonna yell.

Hiya, Friends!  Recently, I went for a Car Ride with Mommy and Daddy.  It was pretty fun for the first two and a half hours.  Heck.  Let's say three and a half.  It was fun for the first three and a half hours.  We were riding in the Sassy Red Car, and I love the Sassy Red Car.  It's one of my beloved Vroom-Vrooms I'm so fond of. 

However, I was seeing the inside of the Sassy Red Car a lot more than I really wanted to.  We're talking HOURS!  I think I might have mentioned it in an earlier post.  And yes, I'm still talking about it, because the long car ride precipitated an epic meltdown on my part in a restaurant.  Did I tell you all about that, or did I just unload on my Facebook Friends and not mention it over here? 

Either way, I was in my carseat for lots longer than any kid my age likes to be.  Mommy and Daddy kept saying to me 'Take a nap, Zoe!  Close your little eyes, Zoe!'  Ha!  Fat chance of that, and also slim chance of that.  There's too much to see when I'm riding in the car to take a nap.  I mean, even when I'm bored out of my gourd, there's still stuff to see out the windshield, especially now that I'm turned around riding the right way 'round.

Last year, I had to ride facing the rear-end of the car, and I'll graphically demonstrate to you how much fun it was, riding in the car, facing its rear-end.  Stay tuned for the next paragraph.  Ready?  Here we go.  This is how much fun it was to ride around in the car, facing the rear-end and getting to see nothing but the seat  back:

[PARAGRAPH LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK BY ZOE WITHLIZARDBREATH BLAKE]

Didja get that, Big People?  Didja see what I did there?

At least I get to face frontwards these days, and see what's coming up.  For that, I'm super-grateful.  I mean really.  But after hours'n'hours in my carseat, I start to get bored and antsy.  I try to roll with it.  I try to just handle it like a Big Person would, but to be fair, that very day in question, I watched a For Real Grown-Up Big Person throw a temper tantrum at Friendly's because her hamburger that she ordered came out on toast instead of a bun, and did she ever let the waitress have it.  I saw that hamburger up-close, because Mommy ordered the same one.  It looked tasty!  I don't know why that lady flipped all out over the bread.  It was all spelled out for her in the menu! 

YAAAAAAAAAAAR SOMEBODYGETMEOUTTATHISTHING!

Anyway, what I'm saying is I watched a Big Person have a meltdown in a restaurant over a smaller deal than her Mommy and Daddy hauling her around for hours'n'hours in a carseat, letting her get all tired, hungry, and bored, so by the time we got to that restaurant where we were going, I figured that while a meltdown on my part wasn't necessarily okay, it was at least warranted, because the Big People were sure having their share of questionable behavior that day, too.

My point here is that there's a little etiquette to be flexed when you've got a little kid in a carseat, Big People.  The chief rule of which is that the little kid calls the shots on how long they're in the seat, if you don't have a specific destination you're trying to get to.  If you're just going for a ride.  Sometimes, we get fussy when we need a break to get out and move our feet.  Sometimes, we'd like to stop somewhere and eat.  Have a snack.  Just get out of the car.  Is it rude when we yell and kick our feet?  I suppose the case could be made for that stance.  But I maintain it's rude for a Big Person to expect a Little Kid to just sit, planted, in their carseat all day.  It's R-U-D-E rude!  And Little Kids don't have many tools at our disposal, so we use the ones we DO have: our raised voices and our Feet of Fury.

Think about it next time you think you're gonna take a Little Kid out for a car ride that last an indeterminately long amount of time, Friends.  Your Pal Zoe begs you.

I'll leave you this song I wrote, while I was riding around in my carseat.  It's sung to the tune of "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad," which would have also been more fun and engaging than spending a kajillion hours in one day, in my carseat.  Okay.  Here goes:

Sorry.  Had to do that.  I feel like I've been in this seat my whole life!

I've been ridin' in my car-seat
All the live-long day!
I've been ridin' in my car-seat
Rollin' down the dang ol' high-way!
Can'tchya hear this baby bawlin':
Let me out right now!
Mommy let me out!
Daddy let me out!!
Let me out or I'm gonna scree-yeee-yeeem!
Mommy let me out!
Daddy let me out!!
Let me out or I will SCREAM!!!

I hope you enjoyed my musical stylings.  Friends, keep in mind what I've told you today.  Long car rides really mess with a little kid's head.  And when you mess with our heads, we're gonna melt down in a public place, a nice restaurant, even.  Just something to keep in mind.  Anyway, I love ya!  See ya tomorrow!  Muah!

Settling Back In To Regular Life

Boy, I loved that lake!

Hiya, Friends!

Well, I'm settling back into my routine after getting back from vacation.  I admit that I never really understood why you Big People make such a big deal over vacation, until I actually went on an actual vacation at a real-live lake house on a big lake! 

I loved it!

And I promise I'll post some pictures of my vacation soon.  In a few days.  Not so many pictures as to be obnoxious.  I understand that as much as you Big People love vacation, you hate to hafta look through picture after picture of other people's vacations. 

We could have a vacation slide party!

In fact, I read about a curious ritual that Big People would go through, way back during the era of photographic slides.  The way I understand it, you'd invite all your friends over to your house after you got back from vacation and got your slides back from the developer of your choosing, and then you'd serve everybody adult beverages and cheese puffs and make 'em watch all six-thousand of your vacation pictures, projected onto a portable viewing screen.  And they'd be bored and hate it, and then they'd turn around and invite you over to a vacation slide-watching party at their house, when they went on their vacation and got their slides back.

Sounds like good times, right there, Friends!


'Course, now, you can pretty much do the same thing on the Facebook, but without the cramming all your friends into your actual living room, or serving them adult beverages and cheese puffs.  And your friends can always hide your vacation pictures from their newsfeeds if they aren't as nosy as I am. 

I don't know.

Or we could just go on the water-slide! Sounds like more fun to me!

So anyways, in a few days, I'll be posting some pictures from my vacation at a lake.  They might take up a few days' worth of posts.  If ya wanna look at 'em and read my vacation-themed retrospective blog entries, you can!  If you don't wanna, you can go bake yourself some cheese puffs and watch MacGuyver re-runs.  I'm not gonna make ya sit there and look at my vacation pictures if you don't wanna. 

In the meantime, Friends, I love ya.  I hope you're getting some downtime here in the summer.  You were right.  Vacation really is just swell, and settling back into a Normal Routine after a solid week of fun is quite a drag.  But let's make the best of it and keep the spirit of vacation with us always, okay? We can do it!  Muah!

Toe-Jammin'!

What? People squoosh grapes with their feet?!

Hiya, Friends!  As I might or might not have mentioned, I've recently visited a winery.  Bully Hill.  I didn't drink any wine.  I'm not even TWO yet, for Pete's Aches!  But I did have an epic meltdown in their dining room. 

Did I mention it? 

Well, if I didn't, I'm sure Mommy has.  And she loves to tell the story, so ask her about it sometime. 

Whatever.

My topic of inquiry today is that Daddy bought me an outfit that says "Official Future Bully Bill Grape Stomper" on the front, and it shows a pair of feet in sneakers dancing on a bunch of nice, round, purple grapes!

I looked it up, and apparently stomping on grapes is a way to get the juice out of the grapes to make into wine.

They stomp grapes with BARE feet?  You're joking!

I thought, surely grape-stompers wear special shoes they keep really clean for such a task as stomping on grapes which are going to be made into a potable.  I mean, Mommy and Daddy get pretty adamant with me that I keep my feet OFF the dinnertable when we're eating.  Something about feet being dirty, skxxxxxxxxxx!

And I thought this would be really cool, being a grape stomper and having a special pair of grape-stomping shoes.  I love shoes, and I love to have different pairs for different things.  I figured grape-stompin' shoes would be ankle-booties with easy-clean uppers, kinda like Crocs, but not Croc-shaped, and then the soles would be platform cork.  You know, to get the grapes used to being near corks! 

And I was looking forward to getting my first pair of grape-stompin' shoes!  I was gonna go for a purple pair, with little sparklies right in the easy-clean uppers!

Haha, wine drinkers! People touched your drink with their feet!

Alas, though, upon further researching by me, I found out that grape-stompers stomp grapes with their bare feet. 

Let that sink in for a minute, oenophiles!  (Pssst, that's a fancy word I found for people who like to drink wine!)  Grape stompers touched your drink with their bare feet!  No cork stomping-surface.  No Croc-like Easy-Clean Uppers.  Their Bare.  Naked.  Feet.

That's right.

So the next time you're at a wine tasting, you'll wanna really wow the other people at the table by busting out that bit of factology.

I betchya you'll be super-popular!  Hahahaha!