Milk Belly

See?  I have this milk belly.

Hiya, Friends!  Zoe here.  Hey, I need to talk about something that's been bugging me for a little while.  It really has me at my wits' end.  You see, I have a milk belly.  Take a look at me in that picture over there on the left.  As far as milk bellies go, you have your half-pints, your quarts... your gallons.  Errrrrrrm.  I think from the looks of me, I'm working on the gallon.

Mommy's no help.  I mentioned it to her the other day, this milk belly thing, and asked her which Cathe videos I should do to work on my milk belly, and all she did was zerbert me on the belly and tell me I'm cute the way I am.  Do you have any idea how mad that made me, Big People?  I'll clue you.  It made me really mad.  Really, really mad.  It's heck, not being taken seriously when you're really serious about something, and I'm really serious about doing something about my milk belly. 

I don't mean to draw comparisons, but Gremlin Man and I could compare milk bellies if we wanted to.

I'm at a real loss, here, Friends!  The best I can come up with is to dress up like Gremlin Man and tell people I'm the mascot for the the Second Coming of the Gremlin.  Mommy has a Gremlin, and I've always liked that friendly little Gremlin Man.  It's just, I think it's possible to really like somebody or something, and not feel compelled to sport a milk belly like theirs.  I wonder though, would Gremlin Man's belly be from milk?  Do Gremlins drink milk?  I really don't know.  I'd like to meet Gremlin Man sometime, so I can ask him, but I'd have to figure out a way to ask, so as not to be uncouth.  That's a puzzler, how to do that particular feat, Friends.  I mean, I could ask him if he likes to drink a lot of milk like I do, and if he says either yes or no then asks me why, don't you think that'd be awkward?  The truth would be because I was wondering how he got his milk belly, but that might upset him.  I wouldn't want to upset Gremlin Man.  Of course, maybe he isn't as sensitive about his milk belly as I am about mine.

My friend Nora always helps me feel better about things!

That makes me think of my friend Nora the Little Giraffe, that lives at the Arnot Mall in the Hallmark store.  Remember her from a couple weeks ago?  She spoke at a Little Giraffe Symposium I went to, and she talked about how we shouldn't feel bad about our necks.  I thought she was inspiring at the time, because, hey, I don't feel at all bad about my neck, and I think Little Giraffes have really nice necks, but Penelope and Sophie told me that as giraffes, they can be a little sensitive about their necks, so it really meant a lot to them to hear Nora say they shouldn't be sensitive or feel bad about their necks.  Well, I wonder then, if my milk belly is my neck that I shouldn't feel bad about.  I don't mean that my neck is in my belly!  That'd be sort of too bad, wouldn't it?

What I mean is, everybody's got something that bugs them about themselves.  For the Little Giraffes, it's their necks, and for me it's my milk belly, and if Nora and the other Little Giraffes can get over being bugged by their necks, why, I ought to be able to make peace with my milk belly!  Now Nora's even more inspiring to me!  I get it now, Nora!  I get it!

Well, there you go, Friends!  I'm not going to feel bad about my milk belly anymore!  And if I ever meet Gremlin Man, I won't ask him if his belly is from milk!  I won't!  It's not any of my business!  How about that?!

Thinking Outside the Scoop

If this ball were an ice cream flavor, what flavor would it be?

Hiya, Friends!  Zoe here.  Say, the other day on The Daily Zoe, I mentioned that I'd like some ice cream, but not vanilla ice cream.  I wanted something else, but I didn't know what.  I still haven't found what I'm looking for, but here's the idea I'm having, and maybe you can help me out and figure out a flavor.

What we need to do, Big People, is think outside the scoop, so to speak.  See me in the picture over there?  I'm holding a ball.  That's what I'd like to inspire my flavor of ice cream.  But not literally.  I'm not looking for "Plastic Paradise" ice cream, or "Yellow Lemon" or anything like that.

Now, here's where I am, and stay close, because you're gonna have to follow me on this one.  Okay.  See, I'm holding a ball in my hands in the picture. If it were a regular ball, like what you picture in your head when I say "Ball!" maybe a baseball or a basketball, or a super-high-bounce ball, that would be vanilla.

Let's simplify this:  Just a regular, generic ball would be vanilla ice cream.  Do you get where I'm going here?  Keep following.  I'll give ya more examples.  Mmmmmmkay.  Generic ball, plain vanilla ice cream.  A basketball would be fudge swirl, because I bet a lot of people think of a basketball when they think of a ball, and fudge swirl is just basically vanilla ice cream with swirls in it, and fudge is the kind of swirl lots of people like best.  It's hard to offend someone with fudge swirl, but it's also hard to surprise them with fudge swirl.  A baseball is probably almost as popular as a basketball, when you think of the word 'ball,' so I'd say a baseball would be butterscotch swirl, because it's still basically vanilla ice cream, with a swirl of butterscotch running through it, and even though butterscotch is one of those flavors people can take or leave sometimes, it's still pretty popular.  Now, football, that's getting interesting.  I'd say cookies n' cream would be football, because football's still pretty familiar and expected, so there's the vanilla base, but now you have cookies crunched up in there, to make things a little surprising, like the pointy ends on a football.  Rocky Road would be a super-high-bounce ball, because even though it looks like a plain basic ball, the super-high-bounce ball can bounce super-high and do just about anything, and with Rocky Road, you always wonder if you're going to get a mouthful of marshmallow or almonds.  And a bowling ball is kind of a zany choice to think of when you think of a ball.  It's a niche thing.  A bowling ball would translate into ice cream as Ben and Jerry's Black and Tan, which has ale in it, if you believe it!  And it's not bad, I hear, but not for everybody, kind of like a bowling ball.

Now do you see where I'm going with this?  Take another look at my ball.  It's a all, basically. It's familiar.  But it's surprising, too, because it has all these holes.  I mean, it's more hole than ball!  And there's all these bright colors on it.  But if the lights were off, you wouldn't know about the colors.  You'd just know it's a holey ball!  And it can roll or bounce or squoosh and spring back into shape.  I want to figure out a flavor of ice cream that's like my ball here.  Familiar, but with unexpected details about it that it might take a few bites to figure out.  Subtlety is what I'm aiming for, but also deliciousness, so no Swiss Cheese Flavor ice cream, or Squid Ice Cream.  I don't even know why you'd think of squid-flavored ice cream, unless you're that kid who just likes to make everybody say 'eeeeeeeeeeew!'  I'm being serious here, so I got that out of your system for you! 

So let's think, think, think, friends!  Think outside the scoop!

Hats: I Just Don't Care For 'Em!

Hats make my hair all bad-messy!

 Hiya, Friends!

Can you tell me something?  Why do you Big People think babies like to war hats and socks?  I want you to listen to me on this one, because it's really important.  We don't like 'em!  At least I don't!

And now that the weather is getting a bite to it, Mommy's constantly trying to shove my feet into socks, and to stuff my head under a hat.  She has this pink hat with a flower on it that she tells me is cool.  'Hipster,' I think the word is that she uses.  Well, I don't WANT to be a hipster, if I even knew what that was, especially if these hipsters wear hats.

See, hats make my head hot, and then I sweat, and my hair gets all messy.  I mean bad-messy.  See, there's two kinds of messy hair.  The first kind is stylish-messy, and the other messy is 'Mommy Made Me Wear A Hat And This Is What It Did To My Hair' messy.  The picture of me at left is the second kind of messy.  See how my curly fin on top is sproinged all over the place, without a rhyme or a reason?  It's not the nice whippy-dip curl I strive so hard to achieve when I do my hair.

My hat makes a good toy.  Not a good hat.

Mommy says that the hat is to keep my head from getting cold, since I don't have a lot of hair yet.  Always having to take a jab at my thin-hairedness, that Mommy.  But I counter her with the fact that my head ISN'T cold, and I'm not cold.  In fact, I'm pretty warm.  I agree to wearing my legwarmers, but she better not dare trying to put shoes or socks on my feet.  My feet being able to breathe keeps the whole rest of me comfortable.

I don't know.  Maybe come wintertime, I might enjoy a hat or socks a little more.  Right now, I feel like both are a nuisance meant to be cast off at every opportunity. 

What I do know is this: I don't care for socks and hats right now, and I doubt I'm the only baby in the world who feels this way, so I just wish Big People would think twice before they try to make us wear them.  That's all I'm saying, Friends.  I'm not trying to pick a fight.  I'm just sharing my likes and dislikes.  You can keep on wearing a hat and socks if you like, but I don't like.  That's all.

I know why the Mad Hatter went mad!

Turquoise Plastic Cup

Wish this was full of milkshake!

It's a megaphone!

 I recently came into the possession of a few large plastic tumblers, Friends, and I've got to say, they're pretty much one of the best things ever, collectively.  I can do so many things with them.  I can stack them, I can roll them, I can fill 'em up with some of my little toys.  Sophie the Giraffe is talking about wearing one for Halloween, and being a Little Giraffe Dressed Up As A Big Plastic Cup.  I thought that was clever.

I'm dressing up in my costume from last year and being a pig again, on actual Halloween.

Back to my big plastic tumblers, though. I think they'll be pretty fun to use in the pool.  They look like they'd be good to scoop up water with.  Or maybe if I could get a sandbox.  I'd like to pretend I'm on the beach, and I've mentioned I'd like a sandbox, and these plastic tumblers would be great playing in a sandbox, but as you know, I've been asking for a water cooler and disco ball for months now, and not seen hide nor hair of either, so getting a sandbox is probably a longshot, too.  But a girl can dream, and I'm all about dreaming dreams!

This playpen would be way better as a sandbox!

 I guess someday, I'm going to be drinking things like water and milk and other beverages out of cups like this, without any straws, even!  That's really crazy for me to think about, since my whole life, I've always had a bottle, or a cup with a spout, or my straw-cups.  It'll seem weird just drinking out of the cup all by itself.  I'll admit, I'm kind of nervous about it.  I don't want to spill my drink all down the front of me and have people wonder if I'm a baby or extremely uncoordinated or something!

Turquoise Plastic Cup, I'm glad I picked you up!

But I think I have a long time before I have to think about not using a straw, don't I, Big People?  I think so.  So until then, I'll just enjoy playing with my Turquoise Plastic Cup, and stacking them, and rolling them, and listening to the sound it makes when I throw it on the floor.  I'll have fun seeing Sophie the Little Giraffe dress up like a Big Plastic Cup for Halloween, and I won't worry about the day when I have to drink out of a cup without a lid or spout or straw!  There's just no point, worrying, is there?

Thirteen Months!

Hiya, Friends!  Zoe here!  Hey, yesterday was the 9th, which is the day I turned 13 Months Old!  I love the Number Thirteen!  It sounds a little sinister at first, because some people think it's unlucky, but I think it's great!  First of all, it's a prime number, which means it can be divided only by the number one and itself.  That's pretty cool to me.  And the other reason I like it is because 13 is the number in a Baker's Dozen, which means you get thirteen cookies or donuts instead of just twelve!  How about that?

Anyway, since I'm 13 months old, now, I kind of wanted to look back at the things I was doing on the other thirteens of my life. 

For instance, I was 13 seconds old, once, way back on September 9, 2011.  At thirteen seconds old, I don't think I'd gotten over the shock yet, of being here.  It's a little fuzzy for me. 

13 minutes old- I woulda smiled, if I hadn't had to wear a hat!

Then I was 13 minutes old, not long after I was just 13 seconds old.  I was being weighed and measured, and wrapped up in blankets, and the nurses put a hat on my head.  I didn't care much for hats then, either, but honestly, I was too tired to fight about it.  I'd just been on kind of an intense trip, and they thought I needed a hat.  I was fine without it, but whatever.  Looking back, I wish I'd raised more of a fuss about the hat.  I feel as though I really set a precedent with not fighting the hat when I was 13 minutes old.  Now, Mommy thinks it's okay just to plop a hat on my head, and she gets upset when I pull it right back off.  If I'd really insisted on NO HATS, LADIES, that night when I was 13 minutes old, I feel like this wouldn't be such a battle to this day, with the hats.

13 hours old: A little cake would have been just the thing.  It was my birthday!

Next, I was 13 hours old, would have been 1:33 p.m. on September 9th, 2011.  You know, I wish I'd a known then what I do now about birthdays.  That was my birthday, Friends!  And even though we were in the hospital, I bet somebody could have brought me a cake!  Maybe they could have run to Giant and picked one up.  It wouldn't have needed to be very fancy.  I didn't have good eyesight when I was 13 hours old.  But I bet I would have loved cake.  I love cake now.  Some people might think I have a cake addiction, since I talk about cake all the time, and think about it a lot, and try to figure out ways to get more cake.  But I think it's just natural, Big People.  Have you tried cake?  Isn't it wonderful?  I bet everybody would welcome more cake into their lives, if it were offered.  So mark my words, if I'd a known anything different, back when I was thirteen hours old, I would have pressed the call button and asked the nurse to bring me some cake, because it was my birthday, and maybe a party favor and balloon.  That would have been the ticket.

I was tuckered out the day I turned 13 days old.  It was a busy week!

I turned 13 days old on Thursday, September 22, 2011.  I remember it was a quiet day, when I rode in my swing and enjoyed some Similac whenever I wanted it.  No cake.  No muss or fuss that day, either.  That had been quite an eventful week, though.  That Tuesday, I went to my doctor's office for the first time.  Mommy fed me right before we left home, but then I got hungry in the waiting room, and that Mommy didn't have any bottles with her, and we'd decided formula was for us, so there we were, stuck like a truck in mud, but my doctor brought me in a little box of to-go bottles, and I sucked down 4 ounces, right in front of my doctor, as though Mommy had been starving me!  I didn't mean to make it look like that.  Even when I was thirteen days old, Mommy took good care of me, and I know I ate right before we left the house, but thing is, it takes half an hour to get to my doctor's, and that wouldn't be such a big thing, but I think I was nervous, seeing my doctor again for the first time since I was just in the hospital, and I also think that when I was thirteen days old, I was a little bit of a stress eater, so if you think of it like that, it makes sense that I'd get hungry like that at my doctor's, and eat 4 ounces of formula, even though I just had 2 ounces before I left my house.  So there was that, and then the next morning, that Wednesday, the hospital called, and said I needed to come back to where I was born, so the nurses could do the heel-stick test again, so Mommy and I loaded up into our silver Jeep and went back to the hospital, just us, and back up to the maternity ward we went.  It was good seeing everybody again.  It really was.  I could have done without having my heel stuck with a needle, but hey, it wasn't so bad.  So I guess that's why we just hung out at home and relaxed on the day I turned thirteen days old.  I remember swinging in my Snugabunny swing a lot that day, and Rozzie checking in on me sometimes, laying her head beside me.  I love that Rozzie!  And then, the day after I turned thirteen days old, I went to stay the day at Gramma's, just us, for the first time!  It was great!  I got to watch the kitties, and listen to 60s dance music, and sleep in a clothes basket!  I had so much fun that day!

13 Weeks Old: Watchin' the hockey game!

 I turned 13 weeks old on Friday, December 9th, 2011, and I remember the day well.  It was coldish, but not awfully cold.  We had to take the New Red Jeep to Chilson Wilcox in Erwin that morning, to get its oil change, and I got to hang out at the dealership while it was being done.  Mommy, and Daddy, and I all went!  Mommy and Daddy took me to our Mall afterward!  I'd already been to the Ross Park Mall in Pittsburgh, where I met my friend Santa Claus, but the Arnot Mall will always feel like 'my' mall, and it was fun to see it all dressed up for Christmas!  Then when we got home, there was a hockey game on.  I loved hockey games!  I remember my Sabres were playing the Florida Panthers that night.  I'm pretty sure they won, because I said to Daddy 'They better win for my 13 week birthday!'  And I think they did.  Boy I wish I could watch a hockey game right now!  I've heard on the news the reason I haven't seen any hockey games is because the players are locked out, and I guess they never got my message with Austin Locksmith's number, so they could just have that fellow who let me and Mommy back into the Jeep that day let the players back in so they can play their games.  But anyway, that's what my day was like the day I turned 13 weeks old.

13 Months Old: I'm just gettin' started, Big People!

And that brings us to yesterday, Friends.  The day I turned 13 months old.  It was a pretty uneventful day.  Beautiful weather.  Crispy air.  I got to eat some Puffs, and beef, and avocado, and carrots, and applesauce, and white sweet potato, and drink real milk out of a cup with a straw, and I did some serious playing in my office.  I sang with Rozzie.  Mommy made me take a nap.  She always does, because killing my buzz is Mommy's job, but it's okay.  Between you and me, I felt refreshed and wide-awake after my nap.  But don't tell my Mommy I said that.  If you do, I'll deny I said it!  I really will!

I feel like I've come a long way, even though it feels just like yesterday, sort of, that I was only 13 seconds old, and too nekkid to put up a picture of me here.  I've had a lot of fun on all those thirteens!  It's fun being here, you know.  And now, I get cake!  I got cake at my birthday party, on my actual birthday, the day Mommy and Gramma went to Ruby Tuesday for Mommy's birthday.... I thought I had it good, right when I got to the hospital, but I'll tell you something, Big People, it just keeps getting better!  I love it here! 

Learnin' How To Speak Pittsburghese!

It's smart to learn to speak the language of the place you're going to visit!

Hiya, Friends!  Zoe here!  Well, in a few days, I'm going on a trip to Pittsburgh.  My main purpose for going is to see my Aunt Colleen and Uncle Lorentz, but another thing I hope to accomplish is to get some practical practice speaking my second language, Pittsburghese!

I don't know if you've noticed, but the twice I've been to the Steel City, I have been baffled by the local parlance.  To be fair, the first time I went, I wasn't even three months old yet.  But I will admit that my own lack of knowledge took my breath away, when I went to Pittsburgh over the summer.

Gum bands, for instance.  I overheard someone ask someone else  for a gum band, and all I could think of was that it sounded fun and delicious.  I thought it was something like a gum-drop, with flavor and sugar, and a little stretch.  Imagine my shock and surprise to find out that a gum band is a rubber-band!  There's nothing delicious about a rubber band!  And if you get snapped with one, it really hurts!

Dahntahn Pixburgh, here I come!

Then I heard about jumbo sandwiches.  Boy, I thought, I could go for a jumbo sandwich, maybe a big grilled cheese, with a juicy slice of tomato, and a pickle.  I'm really hungry, and a regular grilled cheese sandwich won't do. I've heard that 'jumbo' means bigger than regular-sized.  So I said, yeah!  I'll have a jumbo sandwich.  Guess what a jumbo sandwich is.  Guess!  It has nothing to do with how big the sandwich is, and there's no juicy tomato slices.  Jumbo sandwiches, in Pittsburghese, are what the rest of us call bologna sandwiches!  I said that bologna was above my pay grade and went and had pureed carrots instead.  Boy, was I disappointed!

So in that spirit of hoping to avoid more ignernts on my part, I've taken it upon myself to learn Pittsburghese, inside and out, without being too nebby.  Before I go to the Arn City, my room needs redd up an'at, and when I get to Pixburgh, I'm going to run across to the Jynt Igl to pick up some chip-chop ham for some sammitches for my stay at Aunt Colleen's.  I am rilly looking forward to going, but I hope the roads don't get slippy on our way there!  Maybe Aunt Colleen and Uncle Lorentz will take me to a rill stillmill!

How'd I sound, Friends?  Didja think I'd gone native Pittsburgh?  Did I fool ya?  Boy oh boy, I can't wait to try out some of my new skills.  Learning a foreign language is a lot of fun!  I can't wait to practice in real life!

What's Better Than a Toy that Makes Noise?

Oh my goodness, it sings, too!

Hiya, Big People!  Zoe here.  Hey.  I've got a riddle for you.  What's better than a toy that makes noise?  Do you know?  Well I'll tell you.

The only thing better than a toy that makes noise is having all your toys that make noise, playing all at once!  Some people might call this a cacophony, but I call it great! 

I like to hear how all the sounds layer and mix and meld with each other.  Then I like to hear if I can separate out just one element of the party, and really focus on it. 

Sometimes, I come across some really exciting and interesting juxtapositions.  For instance, my Ballapalooza plays upbeat, 80s- sounding music, and my keyboard plays classical, my activity table plays blues, and my Apptivity Monkey sort of sounds a little rag-timey.  And all those different musics sort of swirl up together and make for some interesting and pleasant listening.

You ought to try it sometime, Friends!  Turn on your radio and hair dryer and vacuum cleaner and blender at the same time, and if you don't trip a breaker, then grind up some coffee, get your dog barking, and maybe make the phone ring, and then just sit back and enjoy the Sound Stew!  It's really fun! 

Wait a minute.  Is the telephone ringing?  Can somebody turn everything off?  I think the phone's ringing.  It could be somebody calling, to take us out for ice cream or donuts or pizza, and we don't want to miss the call!