Sick Day

Poor Min is sick. The diagnosis? Hand, Foot and Mouth disease, which leaves blisters and bumps all over her - you guessed it! - hands, feet and mouth. And a little on her nose. And a huge ulcer on her tongue. My poor baby.

Hand, Foot and Mouth disease is not to be confused with Hoof and Mouth disease (aka Mad Cow disease). This has nothing to do with eating ground beef that once fed on ground beef and everything to do with toddlers sampling one another's sippy cups at the park to see who drinks straight juice and who drinks half-juice-half-water.

Aside from some lethargy, crankiness and a 6am wakening this morning (I don't think Margot's woken before 7:30 since last winter) she's doing ok. It'll run its course in about 10 days.

She did enjoy snoozing on the couch this morning in between Teletubbies episodes, and she also liked the vanilla ice-cream she ate for lunch. There's definitely something to be said for a sick day (what it is I'm not sure, but it's something.)

"Gin ahaan phet mai dai"

Or "I cannot eat hot/spicy food." This would be a helpful phrase for Miss Margot. The three of us ate dinner last night at a cute little cafe called The White Dog. I ordered Margot a plate of hummus and pita for her own dinner, but she couldn't resist grabbing some string beans from my plate when my entree arrived. She munched on them for a minute, and then frantically wiped her tongue with her dress.

Turns out the string beans were seasoned with a Cajun spice mix, which made her mouth dance a little.

Caption-Writing Contest

Akin to the New Yorker's caption-writing contest, I'd like for you, gentle readers, to write a caption for this photo taken today, September 17. The prize will be a subscription to the New Yorker; it will likely run a week late as I'll pass the issues along to you when I've finished them.

(You can write your caption as a 'comment' through the link below. Keep it clean, please, this is a family page.)

Changing Sheets = Fun

Rugs for Rugrats

Hmmm. Looks like I didn't need to buy those bows for Margot's hair since I could have just bought her a baby toupee.

Gratuitous Margot picture

I like this one. Note the bow in her hair - I've had one too many passersby mistake her for a boy and bought these on a whim.

OK Computer

Margot and I went to the library today; it's right up the street and very convenient. While she certainly enjoys unshelving books (much to the chagrin of the staff - but that's what they're there for, right?) she really enjoys banging on the keyboard in the toddlers' section. It's the only place where she's allowed to type to her heart's content, since the keyboards aren't actually hooked up to anything.

The Min Takes Manhattan

We spent part of Labor Day weekend up in New York, although Tropical Depression Ernesto ensured that we stayed indoors the entire time.

But Margot did get to make a trip to MOMA, where, funny enough, a Dada exhibit is on display. (Okay, I will refrain from making a bad joke about Brodie being at the museum with us, but just know that I thought about making such a joke.)

She enjoyed the exhibits as much as any child could, pointing out objects she recognized ("dog," "ball," "baby") and kept up a steady chant demanding dried apricots (possibly soon to replace the cookie as her favorite food).

Side note: it is illegal in the MOMA to carry a child on your shoulders. Security guards reprimanded both Brodie and me at different times and on different floors. (In my defense, I thought that the guard who requested Margot's dismount from Brodie's shoulders did so because there was a mobile of wooden hangers close by, and maybe she thought that Margot would leap from Brodie's shoulders and swing from the mobile. But apparently it's just a general rule, as I later found out on a different floor, from a different guard, where nothing was hanging from the ceiling.)