T., show mommy the new photos...

On the wall there were new photos from Halloween and Thanksgiving. Everyone's sitting at the table for the junior Thanksgiving feast. There's T. on the end. It all seems so sweet until my eye moves over to the Halloween shots. There's my little girl dressed as a princess. In the morning I dropped off a woodland elf; in the afternoon I picked up the same, though slightly disheveled. But, in the intervening hours, the daycare transformed into a castle, and little T., royalty. According to my coworker, father to 4 year old twin girls who love to dress up as princesses, they basically understand it's pretend, but on any given day there's at least a 20% chance that they think "maybe we really are princesses." Marketing forces seriously at work.

As a small holiday gesture, we've "adopted" a single mom and her 4 year old daughter. Last night I went on an expedition to buy some of the things on their Christmas lists. The little girl wants a Bratz doll and a Princess Vanity Set. I had never seen Bratz dolls before. I had no idea. Tried very hard to get her what she wants and not some geobrarian-approved, non-bling version of it. I ended up with the least pimped out version of Yasmin I could find, let's call her schoolmarm Yasmin, but what to do about the Princess Vanity Set. What is a PVS? Does it involve a tiara and a wand? Or is it more about the mirror and the mock curling iron? La Critika, have you encountered such things via A.?

There are minimal handmade gifts in the works this season compared to years past, but something about this princess thing has me inspired, like if it must be princess, if it must be pink, then it must be handmade. Maybe the Bazaar Bizarre will have what we need?

Three day week.

The mechanic's jumpsuit, made back in June, now fits.

The van was not adopted. Let me know if you spot a rust-free vw weekender looking for a good home.

The schwinn is for sale, and a safer child-transporting bicycle has been procured.

Auntie E's visit was great, and among other activities, it included a trip to see the "walruses". To the child, all large sea mammals are walruses, a distinction lost on many adults so we've let it slide.

It's a 3-day week for us. Better get back to it.

year plus half.

My girl,

Eighteen months of your presence passed without notice over the weekend. I blame exhaustion. You've been so busy correcting karmic sleep imbalances on behalf of your grandparents that your parents had no idea what day it was. I understand, it's a cycle. Just don't take it too far, little one--you don't want to overcorrect.

It's amazing that we're still marking your time in months. Every month brings a little something new, but at this milestone, I'm more amazed at what hasn't changed at all. There are certain components that I already see as classic T. When I went to pick you up yesterday, I saw that you'd had a 3 hour nap (this is not classic T.). Alarms went off in my head so I asked your teacher how you were feeling, if your cold had gotten any worse. She said you were fine, that it had been a good nap day all around, and then she said something that's really stuck with me. She said, "You know T." (In fact, I do.) "She's always smiling and running around happily. She wasn't quite that way in the morning, but she was fine in the afternoon." She didn't say, "You know T., that morose little goblin." To her, and to me and your Dad, default T. is happy and running.

T., I visited a preschool the other day on your behalf. I had to fill out a long form. One question asked after your temperament. I was tempted to write something like issue-free, but I think I settled for "even, sometimes cautious at first, but full of curiosity and excited to explore" because that's how you are, and strangely enough, at only 1.5, I feel like I can say that's how you've always been. So, T., there were lots of great things about the place--hot, organic lunches and lots of fun projects--but the outside space was wind-swept and spare, and honestly, there wasn't much joy in the place, and when I think about you at your happiest, you're running through the woods listening for the sound of water, pointing out dogs and eying them a little suspiciously, and identifying every bird and airplane that passes overhead. It'd be great if you picked up some table manners along the way (as you would there) and I'm all for a little calm, but not at the risk of losing your loud chortle, or your barely-coordinated gallop that takes uses so many ergs, your cheeks shake.

Plenty of time to be in reined in, my girl. For now, I guess we'll keep giving our fellow commuters a reason to turn up their ipods. Though I do notice how the earphoneless ones smile when you scream out "WAWA" as we head past the bay into San Francisco. Thanks for spreading the joy.

your mom.

home away from home

This will do nothing to help with our early morning wake ups, but here she is, our new ride, a 1982 diesel westfalia. She can run on biodiesel, she can run on veggie oil, but most importantly, she can run (not at olympic record-setting speeds, but we'll get there in our own sweet time). The current set up has only 4 seats so there's quite a space between T's seat and ours, but she seemed to enjoy the test drive, like she had finally achieved her ideal chauffeur- driven situation. The real appeal emerged when she was free to roam. It's a fort...with a play kitchen...and a tent on top. What more could a little girl need?

Assuming all goes as planned, we'll take her home later this week and have our inaugural road trip for Thanksgiving.

No name yet, but a house-on-wheels like this clearly needs one. Maybe Rocinante?