Sara driving the car. “Sara, you don’t even know how to drive.” To which she replies,

“I DON’T know how to drive!”, almost questioning how is THAT possible?

Dear Ducky,

I’ve hardly time to write, as we’ve been on the play train for the past month. We start every day by making the pank panks. Then there’s play kitchen time, and perhaps a little art. Clean up, and go outside….to play. If Daddy is home with Kelly, maybe we’ll play outside for HOURS. Lunch, nap, wake up and we head downstairs for a little playing in the tent with the dolls. Maybe we’ll go to the Zoo. Maybe the Children’s Museum. Maybe just back outside with bubbles. Maybe we’ll pull out some toys. Maybe we’ll turn on the keyboard and dance with ribbons. Maybe we’ll turn on the ‘puter and play some iTunes until we fall over in exhaustion from our dancy party. And when dinnertime rolls around, we haven’t even touched half of the things we could have done…but that’s OK. We’ll do them tomorrow.

Morning art class, because who cares if the pajamas get stained?

I’m in constant awe of your childhood. Mine was wonderful, but yours is stellar. Not for any reason other than progress, and maybe location. I grew up smack dab in the middle of Indiana nowhere, and 50 miles from nothing. I wouldn’t trade it. But going to the Indy Zoo was a once every 5 years phenomenon. I, to this day, recall exact details of my 2nd grade field trip to the Indy Zoo. Chris Lawson let the peacocks out of the bird area and Derek Luna tried to crawl into the lion’s den. It was the most amazing of days. It took me pages to 1979 blog it (we called them “diaries” back then). You however, you go to the Indy Zoo when the sun is shining. We make the entire 9 mile drive to take in a dolphin show. AN ENTIRE DOLPHIN SHOW. We check on “Mr. Tiger”, watch the sea lions, pet a couple of sharks (oh Indy Zoo, you never disappoint), and say hello to “Mr. Polar Bear”. It’s over-the-top, this life you lead.

Sara running at the Zoo

Cartoons are an absolute riot. We have like 5 cartoon stations AND TiVo. TIVO Sara. I didn’t even have a remote. OR CABLE. They are insanely educational, as if it’s no longer important to know how to unsuccessfully kill Roadrunners. I actually prefer the “public service” cartoons that sandwich the shows. You squeal every morning, “Woo and Woo’s Safety Troll!!” Lou & Lou’s Safety Patrol. Where was the Safety Patrol when I was in my mid-twenties? A Safety Patrol for adults : or people who are knocking on the door of adulthood, but nobody is answering. “Did you just get back from a very expensive shopping trip with your best friend, along with a delicious dinner at the Mongolian Barbecue and a stop for ice cream? Are you now planning to open a box of wine and watch an all-night marathon of The Real World? You shouldn’t have used money earmarked to pay your student loans to buy silk pajamas. And break UP with that loser boyfriend, wherever he may be tonight; you wearing-blinders-like-they’re-a-fashion-statement girl. That’s our safety message for this week! Enjoy your evening!”

Outside painting. GENIUS! Don’t be surprised if we do this activity in the dead of winter. Minimal clean up.

Mickey is by far your favorite, and is a constant adventure in learning. Colors and patterns and achieving mighty goals, like turning Goofy back into himself after the Professor completely screws him by turning him into a baby. Because it’s not bad enough he has no species with which to identify? Mice, Ducks, Dogs, Chipmunks…and “The Goofy”. That Mickey is one spoiled rodent, I’ll tell you now. Handy helpers to do all his chores. Toodles to hand him helpful tools. And that’s just his “Clubhouse”! Filled with rockets and cars and boats! His real house must be…an entire WORLD. We aren’t willing to admit to you that Mickey lives anywhere but on TV. One day we’ll be forced by overwhelming cultural rules to “go there”. You’re cursed with parents who for years actually lived “near that place”, and you and Kelly will have to survive our Orlando-PTSD. You won’t go to Disney much, which I’m sure you will equate to abuse and neglect. Go file a report. The cover sheets are kept at Grandma’s house, right next to the bottomless jar of cookies.

Disney is a marketing MACHINE

That being said, you have to give it to a mouse who has reinvented himself as the #1 most popular cartoon character in the Universe for almost 9 DECADES. If I had 90 years of seniority with the same company, MY OWN ROCKET SHIP would be the least of my demands. I suppose it would be a drop in the bucket to outfit a house filled with hands that pop out of nowhere and fix my dinner, wrap my presents, and wash my dishes. I wouldn’t call them Handy Helpers, though. I’d call them “Proof there is a God and he loves me deeply.”

Look, I got pizza on my new shirt! The Handy Helpers will get those stains out!

It’s been a blast of month kid: sunny and fun and otherwise coated in sticky sweet. This time next month, when every day is a Mommy Day, I’m not sure where I”ll find the stamina. I’m not certain I can be entertaining 3 extra days per week. But oddly, you seem to only care that I’m at the party. It’s just my presence that turns an average day into a day covered in sprinkles for you and Kelly. Your Daddy likes me a lot, but he doesn’t scream when I enter a room, run at lightening speed, knocking over everything in his path, just to hug me. And then it hit me…I’m your Rock Star. How freakin’ cool is that?!

The Leader of Your Band,

Mommy