You want me to do what?!

Maman and papa are so funny sometimes. For reasons passing understanding, they think things such as sleep, eating with utensils and keeping dirt out of your mouth are important. They warn of catastrophic consequences if I break these basic tenets of life. Well, I laugh in the face of danger. Ha ha ha. You see, I'm fearless. I have an older sister and an older four-legged sister that torment me a heck of a lot more than a missed nap, mushed carrots on my face or dirt lodged in my teeth. So go ahead, just try and make me follow these outlandish rules.

Who wants kisses?

But you have to come swimming with me to get them! There are many advantages to summer, among them, the days are longer, it is warmer, the cats try to escape off the patio, cute boys start taking off their Diego jackets and I get to swim in our backyard pool. Now it isn't as big as grandpapa's luxurious pool but it definitely does the trick. The only tough part is finding a swimming partner because when Izzie wants to play, I can't splash too much and Belle, well she takes up all the water. So I will make this pledge to any of my friends, lather up on the sunscreen, get on your swimsuit, preferably pink, and come swimming with me and I promise to give you lots of kisses!

Punk in Pampers

For all those naysayers out there who believe babies don't have it in them to be a punk, here is proof that I can wear a mohawk better than any of those bad, British punk rock knock-off bands. Connie and I decided on Friday that I was to show off my carefree style as I sat beside the pool, eating a Popsicle and watching Elle and Bella prancing around the lawn. Instead of a nose ring, tattoo or black armband, I decided to display my rebellious side with my hairstyle. There are not many kids that are able to pull off this look, but I think it's quite clear that I have the style and the attitude to make it work. I'm so punk that I don't rebel against traditional icons, such as a government, monarch or capitalism. Instead, I unleash my inner punk against naps, textured food and dogs who eat my cookies. So for all of you inner punks, I say, don't let the forces of conformity shield your true beliefs from public scrutiny, be free, release those shackles!

Backyard swim class

Every Sunday afternoon, maman or papa and I jump to the van and head to the pool for swim class. This Saturday, however, everything changed. I woke up from my nap and a mushroom-shaped pool was waiting for me, full of water. And then my new friend Olivia came over to visit and we had our very first pool party. It was such a glorious afternoon, the sun was shining and the wind did its best to let us have some fun before it swept in. Among the many highlights, Elle was still sleeping, so I could enjoy it all by myself.

I didn't realize how complicated the process was to have a pool party. First, maman has to find the sun screen, which is never in the right place when you need it. And then when you do locate it, the spray-thingy is missing. With that out of the way, the cream is nice and cool when it goes on. Sadly, however, maman never lets you eat it. She says it's like the sand in our box that we're not supposed to eat either. Don't tell her, but I do anyway. Once it's nicely spread all over my arms, I got to jump into the pool with my hat and everything. I could slash the water with my hands. Kick at it with my feet. And when I was bored, I could just start talking and get everyone to pay attention to me. It's pretty difficult to find anything to complain about when it's time to play in the pool!

It's not the beach, but...

I've never actually seen a beach, so at this point, sitting in my sandbox on the patio is the best thing I know. I can only imagine what it is like to have the sun soaking me with its warm rays, the waves lapping against my chubby little legs, the smell of the ocean and the sound of birds calling to their friends off in the distance. Instead, I get maman watching over me, Belle licking my legs, the smell of dinner coming in through the screen door and I hear Elle singing Itsy, Bitsy Spider.

Hey balloons are fun too!

Check out this helium balloon, it is colourful, can fly and make neat sounds when you grab it or put it in your mouth. Tugging it up and down is so much fun. Elle can have her fancy iPod she stole from papa, she can keep his cellphone and she can go ahead and amaze people with her singing ability or her ever expanding lexicon. But she doesn't have the first clue how much fun it is to pull this balloon everywhere you go. I'm sure I could be off brokering world peace somewhere or saving Planet Earth from dying, but instead I'm going to wrap it around my hand a few more times and pull it across the room. Hey Toulouse, come and play with me and my balloon, don't be too scared. Wahoo! Like (the older and successful) Trudeau once said: Just watch me! (Oh, and actually, I want to continue sharing the cellphone, it has pretty colours and it fits into my mouth.)

Watch me vibe with my tunes

Papa has been spending a serious amount of time in the last few weeks with his iPod in rocking out to tunes or lost in thought with a series of podcasts on Canadian and U.S. politics, running and international affairs. Being an early adopter myself, I've taken the leap into this new era of music sharing. So I've decided that I'm completely within my rights to take possession of the iPod for my own use. I have yet to download Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or We Are The Dinosaurs to iTunes but it won't be long. In fact, I predict Laurie Berkner will soon be soaring to the top of the iTunes charts before I'm done.
It's nice to be able to pop in the earbuds, grab a soother, cuddle up with Lumpy and just vibe out with the iPod. Now I just need to get Papa to invest in a video iPod so I can watch my cartoons on it too.

Smiles are free for you

In a world that is increasingly charging fees for services that were once free, there is one thing that will never see a price tag attached: my smile. Ask and you shall receive, well unless I haven't napped. What is there to smile about you ask? Well, maman and I get to play together outside in the sunshine. Papa and I get to rub noses every morning and he blows kisses on my tummy. Elle and I play together with our toys. Belle, Gribouille and Toulouse let me pull their hair and give them hugs whenever I'm around.
Smiles make me happy, they make other people happy and they will withstand inflationary and other cost pressures in the future. You can call that Izzie-nomics.

I can walk too you know!

For some bizarre reason, grown-ups don't think that I can hear them when they speak. They always watch Elle running after the dog or climbing up on stools and say, "Elle is so adventurous" or "Elle is this or that." Well, I'm here to tell the world that I'm just as capable as my older sister. I can crawl around the floor when rapid transportation is necessary but when it's time to show off my other skills, I just call over to papa. He and I are able to traverse the entire house on two legs. So there! These chubby little legs aren't just for show, they mean serious business.

Let us eat cake!

Marie-Antoinette once opined that her French countrymen should be allowed to eat cake. Now I'm not going to dwell on historical accuracy, mainly because I'm told that her story didn't end all that well. However, I like the idea of eating cake. So grandpapa and I took up that very task on Saturday night at his retirement party. Now many people seemed to have thought that grandpapa had been retired for quite some time and so it did come as quite a shock to papa and I that he indeed was just now officially retiring. But I don't get bogged down in details when cake is at risk. It was lots of fun to see so many people wishing grandpapa a happy retirement, although they did eat more of my cake than I would have preferred. Did I mention that it was chocolate cake with a lot of icing on top? It's grandpapa and my favourite type of cake in the whole world. There is nothing more enjoyable than running your hands through the soft, white icing and eating it or just spreading it absolutely everywhere from the table to my face or to my little sister's face.

Bedtime stories

Before we go to sleep every night, Izzie and I read stories to maman and papa. They sometimes think they are the ones reading to us, although I think they're slowly coming to the realization, much like every other facet of their lives, we are in total control. Izzie's grasp on language is quite stunning for an eight-month-old. As you can see here, she can follow along with the text of a very complicated book, full of different colours and textures.
This is where Elle is completely wrong. Although I could read if I wanted to, right now all I'm concerned with is trying to put that yellow ball into my mouth without anyone trying to correct me. My motivation at this age is quite simple: eat, sleep and put things in my mouth -- oh and the sleeping thing is optional.