Waiting for the man...

This is what I typically find waiting for me at the top of the stairs as I get home each day...these blonde curling piggies, and maybe a squeal, "Daddyyyyy." It sure helps to wipe away the stress and strain of the day.

Tonight, for some random reason, and without the faintest bit of coaxing, Zoey was way beyond eager to wrap her arms around my neck and squeeze me into feeling better about these last couple of days..these last couple of days that feel more like a movie than my life.

I know that someday she won't be waiting for me, but for now, I can't get home fast enough.

Goodbye Michelle Smith...

“The people that I respect the most, the people who are doing great things, are people who care so much about what they do that they can barely stop.”

My boss retired today, and when it came time to say something I couldn't find the words. In fact, I'm not sure if I had any words that were good enough for her. She's simply the best person I've ever had keeping watch over my life outside of my family, and maybe even the best person I've ever known period. I'm quite sure that my affection for her would seem muted and insufficient no matter what I typed. In fact, I can feel my heart swell in my chest, literally, as I think about her, and I wonder if I ever might meet another person that impresses me with that much entirety. I'll always remember that I found myself, who I was, what I believed in, under her supportive and proud gaze, and I'll miss her blurts of laughter almost as much as her gentle voice of reason.

A long, long time ago I decided that even if I didn't know what it was that I wanted to do, I knew exactly what I wanted to be...I somehow wanted to be impressive. Because of Michelle I have a template, and because of Michelle I have the faith that I might just be able to manage it someday.

Thank you so much for everything Michelle Smith. I'll always divide my life into two parts...the time before I met you, and the time after. I hope it's never very long between those moments that I get to see you again and recharge the battery that keeps me feeling as though I might maybe make some kind of difference to someone. You showed me that I could.

It's Okay If Your Shoes Aren't Doing It...The Cutest Thing Ever...

I have a funny feeling that this might be Zoey one day soon.

Oh, I think that she'll be a fine athlete. I'm not worried. She's more than coordinated, and has a ridiculous amount of energy. She's much more than comfortable doing whatever we ask of her, and certainly built like the lithe looking little thing that you'd imagine something like being a ballet dancer would demand, but the problem is that she hasn't much of an attention span, and 6' 1" ballerinas are pretty rare.

My God this is the cutest video ever made. I can't wait to start making our own videos...at swimming, at gymnastics, at soccer and basketball...maybe even at ballet, but not likely. I wanted a daughter, not a clumsy Russian princess.

A Face Lift For Charlie...

By the time we got back from swimming at the Y, and meeting up for lunch, Zedder's newest BFF had himself some painless and somewhat non-intrusive, living-room plastic surgery thanks to Mom.

Charlie got eyes, and Zoey got smiles...huge ones!

We make our own sunshine around here...

As if today wasn't a beautiful enough day we decided to make it a better one with a few window markers and some creativity. I think all we ever really need is sunshine. We can handle the cold, in fact, on days like today, it's nice. And we can manage most of what winter chucks at us, but what we really, desperately crave is sun.

Give us some serious amounts of sunshine and we wouldn't need or ask for very much more.

Meet Charlie, And Know That Socks Aren't Just For Feet Anymore

This is Zed and her new friend, Charlie...Charlie is one of June's socks, a real soft and fluffy number from one or two Christmas' past. Zo loves him. This morning she made Daddy take some time from his homework to watch Charlie while she went swimming. Daddy was instructed to read a story to Chuck, put him to bed, and then watch a movie when he wakes up. That's not exactly the schedule that we'll keep with Zo gone but that's what we'll tell her we did.

Holy Mother of Unique Visitors

As of this morning at 10am The Zoey Blog had officially notched 89, 405 visitors. That's right, I said 89,405. When we get to 100,000 we're throwin' down with a shindig of fairly epic proportions...red carpet, gift bags, keg...the whole bit.

89, 405 people giving, at the very least, a whisper of a sh!t about Zed's comings and goings. Whoa. That's humbling.

Pay Attention Little Miss Magic

Read this article from the New York Times, and then watch this video, and then let's talk about it.

First, this girls name is Indi, and I love it. What an incredible name. Talk about being slapped with a moniker that you'd better live up to.

Second, I've always had a soft spot for a kid that committed to anything. I don't think you teach that, and I'm not sure just how often a kid learns it. I think that, if you're lucky, you just find it. Then, of course, once you find it there's an impossibility to do anything else but wade through it.

Third, what an incredible relationship with her sister. That alone made me want to have a bigger family.

Lastly, I hope Zo can find one fifth the passion, perspective, and seeming joy, that Indi extracts from her life. We're sooo excited for Zed to get started with some sports programs...swimming, gymnastics, soccer...soooo excited. She's a bundle of ridiculous, boundless energy already at age 2, and she's desperately needing some outlets. She's super coordinated, way too strong for her own good (ask Elle in Brooklyn), and wildly enthusiastic. She could run for hours, so the plan is to let her do just that.

We're excited because we know how important our commitment to those things were when we were young...living at the pool, or the rink, or hanging around the gym long after we were finished practice...We know that those are the things that help to keep Zo surrounded with positivity, and making good choices... finding some belonging, and pouring her attention into. Both June and I are looking forward to games, and tournaments, and four nights of practice each week. We're excited to meet new people, some of which will become good friends. We're excited to have the conversations with our daughter to, and from games. We're eager for the disappointments and the encouragement, the accomplishments and ego anchoring...all of it.

What an incredible young woman that Indi Cowie is. I like her, and juggling a ball around has the least to do with it.

Here's more Indi.

Hockey Night in Canada

I remember growing up and spending Saturdays watching HNIC. Now, as a grown man, I don't watch it near enough. It feels comfortable, like home. It's a classic bit of Canadian life, but rarely as classic as it is tonight. It's the Maple Leafs vs. the Red Wings in the early game, followed by the Flames vs. the Oilers as the night wanes on. Get your popcorn and settle in.

When I was a kid I remember that Saturdays meant staying up late, or as long as we could manage to keep our eyes open. It meant treats and snacks and some pretty rowdy games of carpet hockey...falling asleep with a light sweat from an evening of kinda sorta watching hockey, but mostly playing some version of it. I'd wager that a great many Canadian boys share the same story.

It's funny what we remember from growing up. I don't have many memories that find an easy recollection but HNIC does. Makes me wonder what Zoey will remember.

Saturday March 26th, 2011

If your name is Mihoko Partridge, click here. If it isn't, you still can, but it won't be all that thrilling.

Perspective...

It's difficult to articulate a fairly profound day.

Today I sat in an elementary classroom, surrounded by children's awkward artwork, and spoke endlessly to a very young man, a very, very young man selling and using more drugs than most of the adults I've ever dealt with. He's 13. He looked me right in the eye and fell apart. I left him with a promise to come back, and my head spinning.

I met a desperate fifteen year old with no one to talk to. He asked his teacher if he could help him get in touch with "The Oh Sh!t Guy," and there I happened to be, gathering my wits in a quiet office in his school. Nice timing, and an odd recognition and awareness on his teachers behalf...very odd. Desperate doesn't begin to define what this young man was feeling, and hope was what I tried to plant so that he might harvest it later. That hour took every ounce of energy I had. As it typically is, that wasn't the end of it all.

My cell phone exploded all afternoon with confusing text and disheartening message, until finally it rang with a sobbing girl who three years ago found a special spot in my head and heart. My relationship to humanity stressed and strained, I talked her home, met with Mom, and walked away with the idea that everything will be something akin to okay until I can find them both with a new day to carve things out of tomorrow, and I limped home.

I try to remind myself every night when I drive home that what is important in life is life...not the results, not how the story ends, but the story itself. Today I wrote fifty separate stories, not one with an ending I'll ever know. Now it's time to let my wife and daughter pull me from those pages and back into my own story. It's that one that will help me sleep.

Coloring Windows in Your Tutu...

Kinda just what the doctor ordered.

My Melting Point...

I know it's just what happens to you as a parent. I understand that it's a perfectly natural phenomenon that occurs in nearly every household where a parent dotes over a small child. What I never anticipated was how absolutely profoundly her happiness can affect me. Similarly, it hadn't occurred to me how deeply her suffering could steal my heart.

Zoey has a cold. Nothing crazy, just a cold, but she looks every bit worse the wear for it. He sinuses are all plugged up, so much so that she was a fairly regular bit of eye goop that we need to clear away. June took her to the doctor today to see if there was anything we might do, or something that we weren't doing. He said she was fine, and that we'd just have to wait for her sinuses to clear themselves. So we are, but when she curls up on my lap, or cuddles up to Mom and looks oh-so weary and tired of the congestion, it difficult not to melt a little...or a lot.

I knew I'd fall in love with her, and I knew that it would be deeply, but no one told me that a common cold could break my heart.

Is it really just a word?

Say the word...say it. Nigger. That's what all the fuss is about, isn't it? That one word. Tonight 60 Minutes covered a topic that's been thorny for me for the better part of the last few months...the removal of the word "nigger" from Mark Twain's novel, Hick Finn. That's right, some school districts in the US have banned the book, and so a publisher has removed the word from it's latest printing and replaced it with the word slave. It makes me angry.

I grew up with Huck Finn. I must have read it a hundred times. I have a sixth grade report card that shows a teacher's comments that read, "if I could only add Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn into everything we study Brian would be a straight A student." I have an intimate connection to the book. It helped shape me. It helped build my imagination. It planted the seeds of compassion, of justice and equality in my heart and soul. It laid the foundation for my entire belief system, and that's no stretch. To say that I love it does my affection disservice.

Why bring it up here? Why type such hateful text just six words into this rant? Because it's that word that resonated so deeply in me, and it's that word that I want discussed in front of my daughter someday. It's that word that pushed me into the uncomfortable discussion of just what humanity really is, and what it has really meant across the centuries. I think it's immeasurably valuable to talk about that word. I believe very strongly that removing it from the text of Twain's book also removes the unfathomably profound moments of teachability and the real goal of education. I want my daughter to wade through the tough stuff, not stride around it. It's a horrible word. It causes pain, and it breeds a rare kind of discomfort amongst a vast majority of people, white and black, but it's important. It's important that we talk about it, and that we look each other in the eye when the discussion occurs. I don't want Zoey shying away from that. I don't want to turn my back on the embarrassing and shameful history of this continent just because it makes us shudder. We should shudder. Our past is deserving of that reaction. It's a shameful past.

Nigger. It's not the word that has any power, it's the intent, the context, and by refusing to acknowledge it's role and sad omniscience in our collective past, we are denying it's awful impact. The word should make us uncomfortable, but it should not make us evasive. It is our word, a North American word, and the exact term Mark Twain wanted to use 218 times in his seminal book. It was, in fact, his intent that we read it 218 times. It meant 218 opportunities to illuminate the embarrassment it should inspire.

Did you read Huck Finn? Do you remember it? There is a scene in which Huck comes running back to Jim and the raft in flight from a mob of villagers in chase. He screams, "they're after us." Us. He said "us." From that point forward the novel takes place in a different context, illuminated by a different, much brighter light. Huck says "us" and perhaps just then, at that moment, there has never been read a truer euphemism for the American experience. At that point of Twain's incredible text both Jim and Huck become more than what they were before. They become more human than any name can infringe upon. Make no mistake about it, that painful word enslaved more than one race. I want Zoey to think about that very thing whenever she hears it. It bothers me deeply that we even need to have the discussion. It's an awful word, but it's an important one. Mark Twain knew exactly the profound power in demanding that we read it 218 times. Taking it away robs us of 218 valuable moments where we are forced to reflect upon how that word impacts us and others. Those are 218 moments that I don't want Zoey to miss.

Back In The Real World...

We live at the end of a little road, beside a big lake, and where Spring has not yet entirely sprung. As much as we'd like to say that our front door empties out on Clinton Street, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, it does not. As we left, the flowers were beginning to bloom in Brooklyn. They're nowhere near doing that same thing here at home. There are still piles of dirty snow here, indecisive about whether or not they should be busy melting. This isn't Spring in New York, but it's home.

Zoey was excited to get back to her bed, her toys, her books, and her cat. She woke up and bounced out of bed. She had started the previous day in South Slope, Brooklyn, and had spent the entire day before that playing in Central Park. She began this new one back where she spends most mornings, at home. She was smiling when she woke. She was happy to be home. Her parents miss New York plenty though.

You would too if you sent your last full day in the city like this...



It was 70 degrees in Manhattan on Friday...s-e-v-e-n-t-y...and Central Park was bustling and beautiful. We met an enthusiastic Team Cowgeriffic for a morning at the Zoo, and a day spent doing nothing but walking, basking, and wondering if there was a better way to experience New York City on a sunny Spring day.



We started with seals and smiling kids...well, smiling and eating...



They were remarkably cute...devastatingly cute...and we watched them as they wandered back and forth between Zoo exhibits, together. It only took five days, but Zo was starting to get the hang of this friendship without bruises stuff.



We found the penguins immediately after the seal show, then we wandered headlong into a polar bear exhibit that left us struggling for perspective, you know, the kind that would allow us to believe that our children weren't the absolute centre of the cuteness universe.



We were barely distracted by the presence of a pretty enormous and impressive polar bear crowding up all our photos. I suppose watching him was the whole point, but it was difficult to take our eyes off of those girls we call our own.



We soaked up sunshine and watched our funsters soaking up everything else. It was a stellar last day in the city, and super appropriate to spend it with the oh-so hospitable Cowgerellis. We spent an enormous chunk of the week just hanging out with Mel, and Jeff, and Elle...dinners together, a visit to the Brooklyn Children's Museum, Rumble and Tumble at the YMCA, raucous games of Eye Spy...and so it made such perfect sense to wander aimlessly through a near perfect New York afternoon with our favorite Canadian family living in Brooklyn...probably our favorite family living in Brooklyn period.



The girls get along like they've been friends longer than the two short years they've been soaking up sunshine on this planet, even if Zoey can be equal parts indifferent at times, and then a little too exuberant about her affections at others. The girls were born only about a week apart, and spent a large amount of time together all last summer, and have even Skyped with some serious help from Moms. Elle gets a ridiculous kick out of Zo, and Zo abuses Elle's gentle affections with hugs desguised as headlocks in the most knock down friendship we've ever seen. Good thing Elle's so good natured 'cause so far Zo looks to be the exuberant. troublesome one. They'd make perfect college roommates.



We left the zoo and walked a route that was practically a complete circumnavigation of Central Park. From the Zoo at 63rd and fifth, around the reservoir, and back down the West side, what must amount to no less than 85 blocks. The girls, all four of them, Zoey, Elle, June and Mel, walked and talked, while Jeff and I did the same, all with the sun beating down on us, burning our arms, and offering our pale faces a tan, and a hint of freckles just to prove that this long winter had not made us moles.



Both Zo and Elle napped while grown up talk raged wildly, from Med School placements to work commutes, and by the time the naps were fading there were swing sets and blue skies to wake up to.



It was an absolutely perfect last day in the city. We closed it out with a rudimentary picnic in Columbus Circle, watching skateboarders and bikers. The girls visited the horses waiting for work along 59th, Zoey and I counted cabs, and Elle climbed statues amid slashing, grinding skateboarders. We rested and breathed the day in deeply, admired our burnt forearms, and grinned the kind of grins that typically let everyone know that, yeah, you've got this world and all it's wonders down pat.

It was going to be a bit of a sad ride back to Brooklyn, and a long drive home on Saturday. We had a sigh inducing six days of inspiration and perspective bending fun before we were sadly saying goodbye to Mel, Jeff and little Elle, and wandering back to the R Train. Sometimes life is really, really great, and the rest of the time it's just really good...if you're lucky. We are.



See you next time New York. See you sooner than that Cowgers. Thanks for such kindness and fun. We'll miss everything about this week.

Leaving New York's Never Easy

Michael Stipe was right...leaving New York's never easy, especially not for little girls enamoured with it's endless distractions. When talk in the darkness of early morning turned to heading for home, Zo started to cry. She wasn't very excited about the idea. We cheered her up quickly, but the tears were a surprise.

We'll be home just after dinner. More photos and fun after the long drive.

Bye bye Brooklyn. We'll miss you...again.

Oh-So Happy To Be Here

Zedder was SO excited to be spending the day in Central Park...and we literally spent the WHOLE day in Central Park. It was dark when we left Columbus Circle. We snapped this pic of Zo just as Mel, Jeff and Elle were arriving to meet us at the gates of the Central Park Zoo. Zed was a little stoked.

More pics to follow...but now it's time for bed. Tired, sunburnt, sore, sad to wake up and head back home. Giant heaving le sigh...

Goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo...How about you, you, you

We're going to the Zoo today. It's going to top 70 degrees here in New York and so we're going to darken our pale skin while playing with penguins and visiting a snow leopard named Zoe. The Zedster is pretty excited to meet this cat with the same name.

Jumping on the subway at 25th and 4th in Brooklyn, and then shooting all the way up to 59th and 5th in Manhattan, and then walking up to the Zoo at 64th. Walk, walk, walk...I think we might make every effort to spoil ourselves today...maybe let Zoey run wild in the park, like an excited little puppy. She's been dying to go back to the park and cut loose. Today's your day kid.

Happy St. Patrick's Day New York City

Zed's learning to hit the town with style. She insisted on the sunglasses for today's adventures. It cracked 60 degrees today, so the fashion statement had some legs even if she didn't happen to look abso-frikkin-lutely rad in those shades. It was a beautiful day, and our first New York City St. Patricks Day ever. We rode the R Train with a bunch of firefighters all decked out in dress blues for the big parade. We (mostly Daddy) consumed modest amounts of Yuengling Lager. We ate lunch with Elle Camino and her Mom down at Pier 6 with a wicked view of downtown Manhattan. We forgot entirely that the NCAA Basketball Tournament was starting today, and instead just hung out and all about with nary a care in at least four boroughs. Today all was well with this messed up world.

The little girls played while the big girls talked about awful baby birthing stuff, and Daddy hung out with some illegal Hispanic immigrants further down the way so that he didn't have to talk about all that frightening baby biology womanly Mother stuff.



Beside Elle our little Zoey doesn't look so very little. Mind you, Elle's no Lew Alcindor, but she's not out of the ordinary short, but standing next to one another Zo's height and slender build stick out like Elle's gut.



It was another nice and easy day in kinda sorta paradise...you know, if your version of paradise includes impatient horn honking drivers, stinky dudes on the subway, and a tonne of people who think that they're more fashionable than they are. None, of course, could manage to be as fashionable as the Zed, but then, she works hard at it.



Always the stylish one, its tough to keep her out of the stores and away from all the things that cost Mom and Dad money. She likes to shop though, and we're not kidding in the least. She eats stores up and spits out their gnawed and picked clean bones. She's a one girl wrecking crew of retail nonsense. You've got one of the World's biggest St. Patricks Day parades rolling like thunder down 5th Avenue, and Zedder wants to buy shoes. I tell myself over and over again that it was me who wanted the daughter. June was non-committal, so now it's only fair that it's me who pays the credit card bills when she's seventeen.

It was a lovely...yeah, I said lovely, 'cause it was...St. Patrick's Day here in New York City. Makes it hard to look ahead, but we must. Tomorrow we've got more midtown, more Central Park, including the ever awesome zoo, some Madison Ave shopping, no less than 67 or 68 degree temps, a Bryant Park nap, and a Michigan tournament game to wrap up the night. When we wake up Saturday morning we'll be packing for home. Sounds like everything we sat through snow and rain dreaming about.

Happy St. Patrick's Day you drunken swines. I hope it was half as good as ours.

5:49pm, 4th and 26th, Brooklyn, New York...

June and Zoey watching a National Geographic Special on Porpoises...Dad listening intently to his girls when June says enthusiastically...

"Whoa...I wanna come back as a porpoise!"

Uhmmm, okay...me too then.

Oh-so random...so, so random...but funny, very funny.

Unanimous Vote For Coolest Place to Play in the 'Hood

After a less than harrowing excursion into the absolute wasteland of East New York ghetto, we limped back to the Brooklyn Children's Museum where the original plan was to soak up some more Cowgerbell, and absorb all of the unbelievable energy that emanates from places like this. There were dinosaurs...frikkin' dinosaurs, man. If you can't get a bit of a kick out of a place like this you were probably never a kid, maybe just skipped right on over a decade or so and went from infant straight to surly teenager. You can ride stationary Vespas here for God's sake! What can you possibly find uncool about that.



The Brooklyn Children's Museum was worth TOTALLY worth risking our lives for. It was awesome...easily one of the coolest and best kids only places I've ever seen. Zo had herself a ridiculous time. We didn't end up with many Cowger minutes because of our tragic directional disability, but what time we had was fun, fun, fun, 'til Daddy takes the Cutlass Supreme complete with spinners and thumpin' sound system away. There were play areas that shook grown ups imaginations, water, sand, play equipment, cool false storefronts to play in, like a pizza parlor and a bakery, and...and...and...endless damn ands in every direction.



Zo got wet...and baked bread...



And played audio engineer...



She tore the place up. If you have no intention of ever going to the Brooklyn Children's Museum then I just feel bad for you. You should probably bring a kid with you but it's not entirely necessary. A kid in tow would probably make it more fun, and certainly keep people from calling the cops on you.

It's Raining in Brooklyn

We woke up to rain, and there's something about rain in Brooklyn that feels more melancholy than most places. It doesn't slow things down much, but if it wasn't for the cold rain falling you might think that the sky had gone missing...stolen...misplaced maybe, but not there when you look up. There is only grey. Still, I like Brooklyn in the rain. When it rains in Carroll Gardens the umbrellas come out, and people hustle along wet sidewalks into dry coffee shops and laundrys. Down here near Prospect Park and the 278 the streets are empty, and the neighborhood seems quiet. That's New York... neighborhoods not boroughs...not as big as you think.

I like it here, but I'm glad my life is spent mostly in other places. When it rained I'd be afraid that all I'd listen to is old sad bastard music, and it's not good to listen to too much old sad bastard music. I think Brooklyn might be full of old sad bastard music that only comes out when it rains. Like this. Yeah, too much of that would be the end of me.

It's funny, New York is no different than anywhere else. When it rains you'd be happy enough to just stay inside.

Fourth Favorite Photo Of All Time

Daddy reading John J. Muth's "Zen Ghosts" to Zed at FAO Schwarz

Daddy swoons easily at the notion of a quiet place to read, a lot of books, and an attentive, affectionate daughter. Have you ever been to FAO? Have you ever read any of John J. Muth's absolutely brilliantly illustrated books? Do both...but don't steal my spot in the corner of the basement. I got dibs.

WARNING: Dangerous Drunken Dumbshow in Red Hook

Just a casual heads up. If you happen to be driving around the Fairway parking lot down in Red Hook, and you see this half-Japanese freakshow driving around in circles, steering with her knees, eating Pad Thai from a tinfoil container, and chugging Sierra Nevada Pale Ale...I wouldn't park there. I probably wouldn't drive or walk or linger in any way, shape, or form there. You might want to shop somewhere else, in fact.

Ready, Aim...Click...Stupid snapshots from around town...

New York is obviously a photographers dream, but since I don't have a camera in tow like my wife usually does, a cell phone will have to suffice. There are some seriously silly things to snap here...

I saw this great sushi advertisement on the R Train today...



You get to officially celebrate Rosh Hashanah if you drink this on a regular basis...



Relationships come and go in a city like New York...mostly they go though...and cheaply...



I've seen better children's titles, but none quite so intriguing...



Bananas goood...beer goood...put 'em together, even better...


Gotta keep my eyes peeled for more nonsense. It's seemingly everywhere...my kind of culture, I guess. The stupid kind. I think I really enjoy the exercise of looking for the most ridiculous things our society can offer. It keeps me focused on the ridiculous, keeps me thinking that no matter what's bothering me, or what's on my plate...someone else is busy buggering something up good. That's refreshing. Anytime it's not me it's encouraging.

Freakshow Zo and the Impact of the Bubble Man of Central Park

La familia DeWagner spent the day just wandering around Manhattan. Zo was eager to get going this morning, even pointed the subway out to Mom..."Lets ride the subway Mummy." She's still got some city savvy from her summer on Clinton Street. We slipped into Manhattan on the R Train, got off at 57th and headed straight for FAO Schwarz. We managed to sneak out of Schwarz with no damage, just a promise to come back. We wandered around a little, then over to Columbus Circle for lunch at Whole Foods, and with hopes that Zed might nap we grabbed some steaming hot beans and headed up to Julliard and Lincoln Center, grabbed Zo some new shades...some seriously sweet Holly Golightly ones...and then shot straight for The Dakota and Strawberry Fields. No sleep. We wandered deeper into Central Park and Zed wanted to run, so run she did...and run...and run...and run. We only slowed her down when we found a fella building bubbles in The Mall and she stopped to ruin his day.



We tipped him well, you know, for tolerating our daughter, but it turned out that she was the best thing for business. Before we knew it there were a dozen people watching Zo dismantle his hard work, and cameras were snapping, people were pointing and laughing, and the busker was a pretty solid guy. He played up to Zo, treated her like a million bucks, even did his best to convince her to step inside one of his bubbles. It was the only thing that could slow her down, and even then it didn't do much of that. It mostly just restricted her craziness to a few meters squared.



It's funny how everyone we talk to tells us how important it is that we're socializing our daughter, when social skills are the very last thing that she needs. She's quick to make friends, even scare kids away with her comfort and eagerness to connect, and she doesn't hesitate one bit to try something new, or meet someone new. She was best friends with the Bubble Man in about two seconds...no hesitancy, no shyness, just full on hello nice to meet you. Of course, it helps when you bring bubbles to the relationship. Write that down. It damn good advice.



Zed just loves this city, which seems strange to say about a two year old, but she talks about new York at home...she laughs and runs and squeals and turns into an entirely different Zoey here. She talks about the tall buildings and she laughs at all of the yellow cabs...she gets excited going in and out of the stores, and she says hello to almost everyone that walks past. She introduces herself to doormen. She makes friends with every dog she sees, and she's quick to point out poo bombs on the sidewalk. She's damn near a New Yorker and her address say otherwise.



Both June and I are convinced that it's New York that has helped to make Zo as audacious as she is. Last summer she blossomed like we'd never expected, and you can see the difference in both stimulation and impact with so many positive distractions, even when she's here for just a few short days. I think it's important to provide some seriously wondrous things in these early years. It's when the most development and the most learning is being done, and it's when you should be planting all these seeds of amazing. You hear time and time again about the importance of teaching language and behaviour skills in these early years but rarely do people consider the equally important idea of new and incredible environments.



Were Zoey to grow up here and know nothing different than New York she may be less inclined to truly soak everything up, but she spends most of her time living in places with far less stimulation and the change of pace she finds whenever we're here, is double, quadruple stimulating. You can literally watch her filling up with it. You can see her changing right in front of your eyes. Don't believe it? Grab your funster, and slip on down here for a few weeks... get involved, do things, meet people, give your child free reign to explore and learn, and WHAM...I swear, you'll be blown away by the impact of it all.



New York isn't just one of the world's most incredible cities...it's one helluva lesson in the growth and development of a child. It's also a great place to find cool sunglasses and bubbles.

Queen Isabella Would Be Less Than Proud

In an alarming gesture, and of course, somewhat Christopher Columbus-esque, Zoey has just announced that she has found the bathroom...after just two days in this hotel room. Kind of like America turning out NOT to be India.

Nice work Zo.

I Spy With My Little Eye...Enchiladas and Cowgers

June, Elle, and Zo doing some post dinner reading - 2nd Street, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.

We enjoyed a fun night of Mexican food and fun (not Mexican fun, just regular fun) with the 2nd Street Cowgers tonight over in Carroll Gardens. After a day of wandering our old haunts and reminding ourselves what we loved about Brooklyn, we settled into a grin inducing night of dinner, conversation, and childish games as two families got caught up after more than a few failed attempts.

Zo was a freakshow, tearing the place apart in between loving, if not entirely too aggressive and occasionally indifferent interactions with Elle, and sweet little Elle became my best friend on planet earth with a rousing game of "Eye Spy. We had a blast, and while Elle, Zo, Jeff and myself tore the living room apart, June and Mel got some valuable undistracted Mom time together, which was nice. We kept everyone up far too late, and as I type this I'm sitting in a hotel lobby watching the Lakers and Orlando Magic while June does her best to whisk an excited Zo off to sleep. I'm sure Jeff and Mel are having just as much fun escorting Elle into a deep, overdue sleep.

It was a great night, and served to remind us how infrequently we get to just hang out with people that we really, really like. Our lives back home are so isolated at times, whereas here in Brooklyn we feel part of a much bigger community...connected, if you will, and it helps that we had Mel and Jeff to introduce us to it all.

Tonight was a riot of somewhat subdued hilarity...like Elle insisting that her own family was called Brian, June, and Zoey, thus dubbing herself and her parents, Brian 2, June 2, and Zoey 2...she was content to perpetuate that illusion for the night...or there was Elle's unexpected attempts to give me a kiss on the lips. I suggested that she lay one on my cheek but she was awfully insistent that her affection find a place on my lips. That got a little awkward. She's just about the cutest kid alive...Sorry Zo, she's indeed that cute.

There's not much more fun to be had on planet earth than what fun you can rouse up with a simple game of Eye Spy and some tasty enchiladas. You can throw some Cowgers in for good measure, and you've got yourself a stellar night.

In Case You Were Wondering...

This is what audacious looks like...



And this is what humility looks like...



Zoey was a pretty hilarious little girl on our trip down to the city. She insisted on navigating for a chunk of the way, and never quite managed to get the hang of it...kind of like her Mom.

Whoa!!! BAM...you see that? You see what I just did? I'm like an insult ninja...only less agile and somewhat unskilled.