About a Girl.

So, I am loving formspring. I’m deep in editing until the end of this week, and answering a question or two is a refreshing break from work that doesn’t require a large chunk of time, which means I get to talk to you even when I can’t post. I am likely to remain frazzled until mid-month, and so suspect I will be using formspring a lot. The only problem I’ve found is a tendency to start rambling and realize “hey, this should be a blog post,” and then that I don’t have time for that, and I end up cutting and pasting the answer into a document I’ve started called “Get to the goddamn POINT, already” so that I can finish it later. (Actually that’s a lie: the document is called “Untitled 2,” but it works better the other way).

Speaking of points and not getting to them, the point of this post was supposed to be Simone, as the most frequently asked question by far was what she’s been up to. Boy, you people love that baby. I shudder to think what would happen were the two of us to run for Class President.
I can’t really blame you, because she is particularly delightful at the moment. One of the worst things about not having posted for so long is that I have no record of Simone during that time, and my memory is not what it used to be. So here we go: Simone at almost-25-months.

She is extremely talkative, like unusually-extroverted-publicist-on-cocaine talkative. It isn’t always possible to understand what she’s SAYING, mind, but she’s always saying (or yelling) something. Much of it is also quite witty, at least according to her. She holds long telephone conversations, walking back and forth in the hallway holding the receiver to her ear, saying “Hi. Hi. No. No no NOOO! HAHAHAHAHA! GoGO! Byee!” She seems to be very popular, though her relationships can be volatile: some calls are furrowed-brow serious; some merit shouting. I don’t know where she meets these people.

I got her a set of miniature enamel pots and pans for her birthday, and I have never seen her so taken with anything. Her interest in cooking is a mystery, as she hasn’t seen me do it in months. Almost as mysterious is her interest in eating/feeding others what she makes, as real food could not possibly interest her less.

She carries things around, as many as she can manage, occasionally running out of hands and resorting to holding an object in her mouth, like a dog. Incidentally, Simone’s obsessed with dogs, and every time the (actual) phone rings, is certain it is my mother’s youngest dog, calling to talk to her.
“Shau?” she asks, crowding close (the dog’s name is Scout), “Dog? Woofwoof?”
I tell her that no, actually, the caller is human, and anyway didn’t call to talk to HER, but she is never convinced, and wedges her face against mine to get at the speaker: “Hellooo?”

But back to carrying things. Usually she has at least one pot, a cup or two, a toy ladle, her baby and a pen or plastic spoon. Sometimes she adds a baby wipe, in case she feels the urge to clean, as one so often does (no). She cleans by rubbing said wipe along a cat or bookshelf, and I haven’t the faintest idea where she learned such behavior, though I encourage it whenever I can. When carrying her customary assortment she will drop something every once in a while, and there is quite a production involved in picking it up again without relinquishing her hold on the other pieces in her collection.

The doll I gave her at Christmas is still the favorite, though she has others as well—all told we have Hair Baby (the aforementioned), Tiny Baby (unfortunate backward-limbed mini-doll), Soft Baby (Aka Ursli, present from her Nani), and Cankle (Cabbage Patch Kid with one broken ankle-thread). They are named only for my own convenience, and as far as I know Simone has neglected to give them names herself. I will admit that her babies are all very well fed, unlike my corporeal, living child.

Simone is about 24 pounds, at most, and stands maybe twice the height of a dictionary, or at least that’s what I estimate from where I am sitting. She’s tiny, but an excellent dancer, and nearly lost her wee mind for a NWA song the other day. The very best thing in the world is when she sprawls next to me in bed at night, and after running through her repertoire of sounds, tells me she is happy.

“Happy!” she says and signs, “Happy! Happy! Haaa!ppyy!”