New babysitter

Mamam and Papa hired a new babysitter on the weekend and she might come for a visit tonight. But no one will ever be as fun as Grand-maman has been during the last month.

He's got the whole world in his hands...

Ok perhaps it's only me, but he's got me in his hands. Perhaps Papa is turning into Atlas, however, I cannot imagine it is a burden carrying me on your shoulders. I'm so cute. Isn't Greek methology fascinating? The best part of studying the subject is the wickedly cool names: Atlas, Zeus, Iapetus, Clymene, Prometheus, Hesperides, Maera, Medusa and Perseus. I really have no clue who these individuals are, but if only people gave such imagination to naming their children today it would be a far cooler place to live.

Is it Halloween yet?

Where to begin? It has been far too long since I last blogged. I was in Bouctouche from Tuesday to Saturday and I had a blast with Grand-maman and Grand-papa. On Friday night, everybody had bouillie for dinner and I giggled and laughed at people as they ate. As has become customary when visiting Bouctouche, we had a ton of visitors on Friday. Other than Grand-maman and Grand-papa, I also saw maman, parrain and Joanne, marraine and Steven, Carole and Zoé, Nadine and Chloé, Gérald, Norma, Mélanie and Michel. Papa arrived an hour before I went to sleep and we hung out catching up on what we did for the past three days. He looks much taller with his new shoes.
The highlight of the weekend was clearly Halloween shopping on Saturday. We went to Children's Place on a mission for a costume. I'm still not sure I have this tradition straight. So I'm going to dress up and visit strangers' houses and get candy that I won't be able to eat for another year? And this is supposed to be fun? Can I stick to unwrapping presents at least then I can eat the boxes. But I digress. When we arrived at the store, there was only one costume that fit: the butterfly. It was the one costume that marraine expressly said she didn't want to me to purchase. Hee hee, oops.
But don't I look cute?

Back in Bouctouche

I'm in Bouctouche for the next few days with Grand-maman and Grand-papa so I thought I'd sleep in well past the time I've ever woken up for my parents. Maman and Belle are coming down tonight, I can't wait to see them. I won't see Papa until Saturday morning. I'm taking solace in the fact that I got new clothes on the weekend.

It is still September, right?

It's not like my Maman and Grand-maman are Christmas-aholics or anything, but it is Sept. 18 and I already have a wrapped Christmas present. Does anyone else think this is funny?

Saturday morning fun

Grand-papa is up this weekend for a golf tournament ... yes the idea of Grand-papa golfing is hilarious to me too. So he and Grand-maman are hitting the links despite the looming rain.
This morning all five of us jumped into the car and went to Mike's Place for breakfast. I wasn't very impressed by the fact Belle had to stay behind so I embarked upon: Operation Annoying Restaurant Baby. While playing with my colourful cups I'd throw one to the right and as someone was picking it up, I'd throw the other one to the left. They never caught on.
Then I thought I'd ramp up the covert mission by ripping the paper placemats (Christmas will be so much fun) and then trying to eat the paper. Oh and the best part, every few minutes I'd pretend to be fussy and start whining until someone picked me up. Once they were finally done their breakfasts, I thought I'd behave and start flirting with the one-year-old boy who just walked in. Operation Annoying Restaurant Baby: Successfully Completed.
I'm now sleeping as I prepare for the after lunch trip to the mall.

Just hanging out

A baby's life: Uncomplicated. Full of furry friends. Lots of love.

It's all about the hair

It never fails every single time I want to enjoy a cookie, I look around and I have Belle trying to get a piece of the action. What is a baby to do? Perhaps if I convince her that Gribouille and Toulouse each have their own cookie she'll go and harass them.



I came to the sad realization this morning that no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, I have Papa's hair. Thus I will be resigned to a life of using more than my fair share of product in my hair. And is it just me or do I have a startling resemblance to Grand-Papa? Five days shy of being eight months old and I am starting to understand it is a cold, cruel world.

Surviving the weekend

I know it says September on the calender but feels like mid autumn. I love these early morning jaunts so I can show of my cool toques and inhale the crisp air.
Anyway, back to the latest chapter in profound baby experiences.
I have never experienced this winter phenomenon commonly referred to as Christmas, but I hear there are a lot of gifts exchanged. However, Saturday turned out to be my dry run for this event. We went to Toys'r'Us under the guise of just wanting to pick up a few things and I strolled out of that store with new Peek-a-Blocks, more bath toys, a new bib, a colourful toy drawer and a see-through gate to put by the stairs. I'm not sure the relevance of wrapping these objects in fancy paper and placing them under a tree, but if that is half as much fun as what I enjoyed on Saturday I can't wait for Dec. 25.

Walking with Grand-Maman

I'm currently out on my morning walk with Belle and Grand-Maman. I'm a huge fan of these daily strolls, not only do I get to see all my favourite neighbourhood dogs, joggers and walkers, but it's a great time to breath the fresh Fredericton air. And it's a chance for Grand-Maman and I to discuss crucial world events, like yesterday for instance we had a passionate debate on whether the price of gas hitting 139.9 cents per litre would push people to public transit and refrain from driving. I think I won the conversation: we've been walking a lot lately.
The other fantastic part about today is Maman arrives home from her meetings in St. Andrews. I missed her yesterday when she didn't come home, but Grand-Maman and Papa took good care of me. Of course, it is absolutely hysterical to see Papa stumble in and give me my soother throughout the night. That is worth not seeing Maman for one night.
And it's not like I don't understand the importance of Maman helping reshape the electoral boundaries of the province. The last thing I want is my first vote to be diluted in a massive riding (although that will not happen for awhile).

Flying fingers

Watch out Mozart, Elle has got some serious game when it comes to playing the piano.
On a completely unrelated note: Chantal Hebert and Jeffrey Simpson show again why Papa believes they are two of Canada's must-read political columnists. Both wrote on very different topics today but were well reasoned and very insightful.

Labour Day

Labour Day was spent in an organized attempt to keep busy. The first half of the holiday was just Papa and I hanging out because Maman was working. So we went for two long walks with Belle. Despite the sun being out, it was quiet chilly so I went for the autumn-chic look with my funky pink toque. On our last tour around the neighbourhood it was so nice and relaxing that I decided to fall asleep and stayed that way for the remainder of the trek.
When Maman arrived home from work we went and checked out Debbie's new place and then -- my favourite -- we ate green beans from the garden and grass before Papa could mow it. A baby's life just cannot get any better than that.
Considering it was Labour Day, I'd just like to send my best to my pal Sophie's Papa who is currently locked out.

Keepin it real in Bouctouche

I haven't been alive long enough to be stressed out. Staying here in Bouctouche is pretty sweet.

Blogging from Bouctouche

We have arrived in Bouctouche. For the next two days, however, even this scenic corner of the province has been swept up in Rolling Stones fever. Mick-ton has replaced Le Pays de la Sagouine.
So I'm keeping it real here at Grand-papa et Grand-maman's place, dodging swarms of bees and mosquitoes. I must say it is a near replica of my Fredericton digs. Comfy crib, high-chair at Belle's head level and around-the-clock adult attention. One well-placed hiccup or a short heart-wrenching sob and platoons of parents are ready to storm the bastille.
For a baby the entire concept of a road trip is quite perplexing. I must spend more than two hours in a car facing the back seat. Hardly a breathtaking view. I'm in a new spot, I barely have found the best place to throw my soother and I have a hundred pairs of hands trying to hug me. Now don't get me wrong I love to cuddle (and I know I'm popular) but really there is a limit to how often I can conjure up cute conversations and saccarine smiles. Sometimes a baby would like to spit up in a less public forum.
But Bouctouche it is and I get to exchange the frog-shaped pool for a real pool full of pool noodles, floatation devices and colourful plastic poisson. Can a baby's life get any better?
Blogging from Bouctouche may be sporadic, especially if the sun continues to shine.

Elle and Belle go bananas

In the last several months I have found this whole concept of sharing rather befuddling. Take for instance the events that unfolded this morning. I just finished scarfing down a container of cereal in record-setting time. And I must say I let Papa off the hook considering I did not tip over the cereal bowl, commandeer the spoon and send food flying or blow raspberries and send cereal bits soaring.
As a reward for my breakfast-eating prowess I was offered banana chunks that I could consume at my own leisure (read: pleasure). Therefore I thought I was completely within my rights as an autonomous infant to offer my faithful friend Belle a few tasty morsels. So there we were minding our own business, me munching on a banana bite and Belle standing with two paws on the ground and two on the high chair rapidly devouring the pieces on the outskirts of the table. And then all of a sudden, we were both startled by Maman's sudden condemnation of poor Belle girl for partaking in the banana-eating festivities.
Consider this, if I tossed the bananas and Belle caught them in the air that would have been fine. Papa would have busted out the video camera. But just because I invited Belle into my space and shared a few banana slices, that is a tragic sin. This adult world is so crazy. Now Belle is relegated to sneaking a few scraps that I accidentally drop on my lap. What a sad, unforgiving world we live in.

Winning friends and influencing people

Many people believe, albeit falsely, that being an infant is about having diapers changed, restless sleeps and projectile vomiting. That is so passé. As a social force, we babies have evolved from the cloth diaper era to the Diaper Genie Age. Avant gardism now is about cunning infant individualism. Now more than ever swagger and style are our selling points. Forget the soft giggles or shy smiles, to be recognized now we must stiffen those weak neck muscles and belt out semi-structured vowel-consonant phrases at the man at the opposite end of the food court.
Yesterday Papa and I were in Children's Place perusing the merchandise as Maman and Grand-maman finished their lunch. Decades ago I would have been forced to behave myself and would be hushed if I uttered anything out of line. Now I can speak with everyone. There is not a person, sales clerk or shopper, who I didn't offer a sampling of my trademark smile and infectious laugh. When I was tired of grabbing and munching on the little pom-poms on the top of the toques, I reached for the nice big hangers, which are perfect for chewing. Was I the centre of attention? Of course. You can bet everyone knew I was in that store. And it should go without saying that I walked out with a cute little winter toque (fully equipped with the aforementioned pom-pom) and an adorable red hat with flowers festooning the front.
In the Diaper Genie Age there is no such thing as too precocious.

Bon Anniversaire Grand-Papa et Grand-Maman

Je vous aime!