Dear Harper -- Month 19

It has been a very, very hot month 19 here, dear Harper, but you are apparently the only one who is not bothered by this. Probably because you are also the only one who is allowed to run around in public clad only in a diaper and shoes. And maybe your baby carrier. Or sometimes just absolutely nothing at all.

We consider ourselves lucky if you will even let us put shoes on you at all. A pair of sandals we bought for you gave you a blister, so now you will never ever ever wear them ever ever again. If we come anywhere near you with them, you'll let us know just how much you hate them by saying, "Owie. Owie. OOOOOOWWWWWWIIIIE." This anger has been transferred to all sandals known to mankind, and the only shoes you will wear are €7 cloth things that are totally the opposite of the kind of footwear I had intended for you. Your first two pairs of shoes (including the Owie Owie OOOOOOOOWWWWWWIIIIE shoes) were Elefanten Shoes, which are supposed to be all ergonomic and foot friendly and shit. And here you are, shunning them for cheap cloth shoes that were probably made by your peers in China.

Wow, I guess that might be a little un-PC for a letter to my baby. Oh well, it's not like you're not used to it.

Anyway, so you're totally the hillbilly baby, and people are always bending sympathetically down to you, asking you, "Where are your shoes?" And in a tone that says, "Because your parents are apparently major assholes who are also enjoying wearing shoes themselves while you, poor poor child, are being forced to walk across the burning coals of Germany with your bare feet." Part of me wants to tell them that you can buy your own shoes once you start earning your keep around here.

You also hate clothes, but not as much as you hate shoes.

You are working towards earning your keep, though, in that you like to help us load and unload the dishwasher. We can even ask you to go get things ... and you'll do it. It is the most amazing thing ever, and we're all like, "This kid-having thing is finally paying off." You'll also say something that sounds like "Danke" when you hand us something, which of course makes us feel like the Best Parents Ever.

You're saying lots of words in both English and German. The hit list at the moment include: lide (slide); ball; Mama; Papa; Mommy; Daddy; juice; pilch (Milch, German for milk); butter; da (German for there); nein; no; doo doo (which can mean a whole host of things, from the potty chair to your toothbrush to the vuvuzela to pee and, of course, to poop); and doodie doo (the infamous word for nursing). And this is having an unfortunate impact on my vocabulary as well. I have heard myself say, "Harper, mommy goes doo doo, then doodie doo." I was always a big proponent of speaking to kids like normal people, until I realized that little kids aren't normal people.

Speaking of doodie doo, upon seeing me topless today, you charged at me like a bull, pointed at my boobs while swaying between saying "doodie doo" and making drinking noises. Just like someone's dirty old uncle might.

But let's get back to the potty chair, or as it is known here, the doo doo chair. You've never actually used it for anything other than sitting on while brushing your teeth -- and the fact that you do that is totally my fault. It is totally my fault that you will apparently forever associate tooth brushing with sitting on the can, although I suppose that could have its advantages. It was like this: We wanted to get you used to sitting on the potty chair in the hopes that you might spontaneously deposit some bodily waste into it. But since you are a little wiggly kid, we needed something that would keep you on the toilet long enough. Your grandma apparently used to feed me M&Ms. Eh, it was the 1970s. Anyway, I thought brushing your teeth would be something that would keep you busy for a while.

The moral of the story is this: You are addicted to toothpaste. Good thing you're only allowed to eat it while you're sitting on the doo doo chair. In other words, you can only use the doo doo brush while sitting on the doo doo chair. I don't think you even know you can also pee and poop into that thing. I think I have forever messed up some hardwiring in your brain.

I have, however, invested in toothpaste without fluoride so that your intake isn't too outrageous.

That having been said, it should also be mentioned that you will eat just about anything -- regardless of whether it is consumable or not. Your favorites include mustard, butter, jam, toothpaste, chalk (now taken away), Play-Doh (now taken away), crayons (now taken away) and sometimes Lilly's dog food. Oh, and you also like any kind of body lotion or sunscreen, all of which you refer to as "icekeem." You'll act like you want to help us put cream on your face, then, all of a sudden, you'll have your lotion-filled fist in your mouth. This is usually followed by, "Mmmm. MMMM. Icekeem." And that is usually followed by a self-affirming nod.

You've also started acting out scenes with your doll, like standing her on the couch, then wagging your finger at her and saying, "No no no no no." Your daddy really yelled at you tonight because you jumped off your chair. Later you shook your finger at him and said, "Blah blah blah blah." I guess we probably might sound a little like the adults in those Peanuts cartoons.

The biggest highlight of the month (OK, maybe not for you, but definitely for me) was yesterday, when Sam, Misty and Samaire had a 23-hour layover here in Frankfurt. We all had a fab time together, albeit too short. And Sam will be happy to know that the newest word in your vocabulary is "dooce." No kidding.



You are also very good at giving hugs, kisses and the occasional bitch slap. We're trying to get you to stop that last one. Lilly remains your best friend and is your favorite victim when it comes to said kisses, hugs and bitch slaps. But there's usually enough left over for your parents, too.

Love,
Mama

This month's nicknames: Gummy, Gummy Bear, Baby Bear, Boom Boom
This month's song: My Little Girl by Jack Johnson