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.)

Life Lesson #1 - Turn to the Other Cheek

At the playground today, a boy who is at least a year older than Margot pushed her over when she tried to ascend the steps to the baby slide. (Oh, did I mention that she can walk the steps to the slide and go down by herself? I'm so proud.)

She tumbled down and then looked back at him, her pride wounded and her clothes dirty. His mom walked toward the kids, still on her cell phone. The moment slowed, and I watched Margot carefully from ten feet away. She straightened herself up, brushed her clothes off, and looked straight at the boy. I wondered: would she push him back? Would she cry? Would she run to me?

None of the above.

She finished dusting her clothes, still eyeing the boy. She then grabbed the handrail, and walked up the stairs.

The boy later hugged her, unprompted. And so begins playground antics - you know, a boy pushing the girl he likes because he doesn't know how to tell her.

Wait, does this mean Margot has a boyfriend?

Dance Party

I tried to take some portraits of Margot today since she wore this beautiful dress, but I couldn't get her to sit still. Instead, here are some photos of her private dance party.





She got a little rowdy at the end:

The Littlest Buddha

On Monday, Margot, Grandma D., and I enjoyed ice cream in the late afternoon down in St. Michaels. Note: this was the first time that Margot actually had her own ice cream and wasn't just mooching off mine.

On the wall behind us was a Mayan relief, kind of like this one.

"Buddha!" Margot exclaimed. "Buddha! Buddha!"

Margot only knows about 35 words. The fact that one of these words is Buddha astounds me. Of course, this could be because our house is draped with artifacts from Southeast Asian adventures, including a huge Buddha relief over the couch. But I like to think it's because Min spent a number of her formative weeks in utero in Thailand; she'll always have that with her.

Here is Margot, almost exactly one year ago, modeling traditional Thai clothes.

All-Day Happy Hour

The five o'clock call for cookies has expanded to morning, noon, and night.

"Coooo - kie," Min croons, from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to sleep. "Cooooo - kie. Coooo - kie."

Sounds cute, right? It is. But if I typed the number of times in one day that she says these two syllables it would bump all of the other posts into the archives section. It rivals the number of times she says "Mama, mama, mama, mama" in one day.

Apparently she hasn't gotten the new message that "Cookies are a sometime food."