Summer has arrived in New England and despite a heat wave that hit us earlier this week we are very happy to have the nice weather and go out and about with Bellinha. Last Sunday we went to Plum Island, a popular birdwatching park up in the North Shore, and also to nearby Newburyport, where dad was working for the past few months.
Bellinha seemed to have enjoyed the outing thoroughly and we certainly plan to go back there someday soon to enjoy the beaches.
In the kind of timeliness that you, Dear Reader, have come to expect from us, we offer you photos from Father's Day and Aunt Becky's first visit ... while she's in town for her second one. Whoops.
I think it's safe to say Aunt Becky and Lil' Genghis fell in love with each other. They also had a heckuva time, particularly at the playground. mom and dad had taken Isabella on a swing before, but hadn't gotten quite so adventurous. Aunt Becky was very safe but incredibly more fun. And that happened the same morning the little lady took a couple rides down a slide.
And so, Dear Reader, the Pythagorean Theorem blah blah only icebergs melt in the rain heyyy what's that stain on your sofa hey uncle rodrigo's Visa card starts with 4.... Yeah, right. You don't actually read any of this, do you? You're just here for the photos. =)
Swings are fun! Both ladies seemed to be enjoying themselves:
Isabella tries out a sled for the second time (we missed photographing the first) with Aunt Becky at the helm:
Lil' Genghis chills with her new best buddy:
Here, Aunt Becky meets Lil' Genghis:
A rare family portrait, and on Father's Day no less (thanks, Aunt Becky!):
In other news, Lil' Genghis took a trip up this past weekend to Newburyport, Mass., and got photographed extensively in a national wildlife refuge and the streets of a tourist-y town. We should have those pictures up by Halloween, or maybe Christmas.
Here's the link to something that Isabella should probably save to use some day against poor Lil' Genghis II, a.k.a. Kublai. mom is already printing it to bring to the next Brazilian family get-together should a dispute arise (and they always do). Oh, and she will have it emblazoned and laminated too.
Lil' Genghis' first illness is looking more stomach-y now. That means more baths, which means more screaming and crying in Uncle Rodrigo's gift bathtub. Thanks, bud. We'll remind her of this when she visits you in the nursing home ... =)
Odd random tip: Washing machines work because the water flows through the fabric; otherwise, you're just soaking it. In the absence of a washing machine and the presence of, say, a blanket soaked in infant vomit, you can add a couple inches (a half-dozen centimeters) of water in your bathtub, pour in some shampoo, and start slapping the blanket into the water by holding one end. When one half is clean, switch to the other end. Then hope you can post something cute on the blog before the wife realizes how big the puddle has become in the bathroom. Besides, you guys are just all here for the pictures anyway.
So, here's a photo from a few weekends ago, with Isabella grasping mom's finger while on the shoulder of Aunt Beth:
Bellinha turned 3 months yesterday and we didn't quite have the chance to celebrate because she came down with a cold/stomach bug.
Oh, the joys of daycare. dad, always peeking on the bright side of things, reminds us that by going through this she's strengthening her immune system.
Anyway, doc says she'll be fine, we're keeping her electrolytized with Pedialyte, and she weighed in at 13lb 8oz (or 6,1 kg) today, finding her place on the 75% percentile (thanks dad for giving mom yet another lesson in Statistics 101.)
We got home today to find the answering machine reading "FL," or full, or, as the Brazilians say, Mais tudo de merde como estas os presidentes dos duas pais da Isabella.
A button later and the magical words:
You ... have two ... new messages ... and twenty-nine ... old messages.
dad had taken a photo of the damned machine when it read "19," thinking then that he'd blog the cute little picture and record for you, Dear Reader, some of Isabella's first messages.
Then he deleted the first two. Change "FL" to "FK" and you get the idea. Yeah. Whoops. It's a sad day when the thought of having additional spawn crosses your mind so you might establish at least one core set of mementos.
Anyway, it's been a crazy couple of months, but today Isabella went to hang out with some of her buddies from the new mom group. Among them were Cousin Tank, who was born a month premature, is less than a week older than Isabella, and seems to live up nicely to his nickname. He's huge, and already tries to stand up. Wow. Not many photos -- the batteries died in the camera, sorry. Guess who's fault that was. Hint: It's a guy. And probably, maybe wasn't boydog.
So, yeah, things've been a bit crazy, and I think we've missed photos from some of the relatives. Uncle John, the first true uncle to visit, made an appearance a couple weekends ago. We could point out Uncle Rodrigo's notable absence; he didn't even try to talk to Lil' Genghis through mom's belly at Christmas because he was too busy playing with his Einstein action figure. Yeah. The little jerk would probably complain he hasn't been on the same continent since Isabella was born. You want to try explaining that to a 11-week-old? You can't. So we just tell her that he doesn't love her.
So, as we were saying, the only true uncle to make an appearance is Uncle John, who got along great with the little lady. That is, he liked her. She kept punching him:
While hanging out with Cousin Tank and company, mom got some quality time with Lil' Genghis today, chilling in a friend's living room:
mom started getting ready for Father's Day by ordering dad something nice. He came home on Friday to a box marked "Perishable." Low and behold, there was authentic southern barbecue ... packed in dry ice.
You know how everyone fears their kid will spend more time playing with the box then the toy? mom -- despite years of marriage -- hadn't quite expected that from her husband. She shoulda known, shoulda known. Anyway, the box wasn't remarkable, but the dry ice got kinda fun.
Then mom started seeing the appeal, stirring a spoon through the whisps of carbon dioxide and cackling like a witch.
Dry ice is definitely a lot of fun, and children from, say, 2 to 80 should all get a chance to play with it at some point. (Be careful with the stupid ones, such as dad because you really don't want to pick it up with your bare hands. Wikipedia says it's about -110 degrees Fahrenheit, or 195 degrees Kelvin for you metric-loving slackers.)
