Dearest Zoe,
It's February, and you've started to crawl around the house on your belly like a little infantry-woman. Last week I put you on your blanket to play with your toys while I finished up a phone call, and 10 seconds after I put you down and turned to walk into the kitchen you scooted between my legs.
The kitchen got remodeled last month. Actually, scratch that. The remodeling started last month. It's still underway a bit, but at least we have a working kitchen now. For a week there, there was dust everywhere and there were strange people in and out of the house every day.
You and I spent a lot of time that week hanging out on the bed, me with a book to read and you with toys to toss around. Usually all of the animals ended up on the bed with us, and you would try to climb over me every thirty seconds so you could pull Jota's tail. Not that she cares. You freak her out a bit, but she seems to like you, too. That's pretty good for a cat.
Your auntie Sarah came to visit in January. It's a long trip for her, coming all the way from Portland, but you were both really glad to finaly meet each other. It was a full-time party for you from the moment she arrived. It's fun when there's always someone to play with!
She took you hiking (whatever that means in South Florida . . . it was pretty fun, but it certainly doesn't hold a candle to the part of the world your father is from) and she read you books, and you played with her nose the same way you play with mine. It was definitely a family thing. Now that she's been out, you've met all of the aunts and uncles, and all of the cousins. It's hard that they're all so far away from us, in Kentucky, Portland, and L.A., but don't ever forget that they all love you very much.
You're really getting to be an expert on "Mama" and "Dada," though I told your mother that I think you have decided that "Mama" means "give me food" or "let me sleep" and "Dada" means "thanks for waking me up" or "I want to play." Someday those will morph into names for the two of us, but for now, we'll take whatever you give us.
You also made your first trip to the beach last month. You loved it! It took a lot of work to get lotion all over you to protect you from the sun, and when we got settled, you fell asleep under a towel. It wasn't until later that you got to laugh at the sound of the ocean, and stare at the waves moving in and out, around your mom's feet.
It was my kind of day at the beach: windy with just a bit of chill in the air once the sun went down. Mi querida Zoe, you should know this about your parents: I can't stand the heat, and your mother can't live without it. We're like Jack Sprat and his wife. Except that we aren't fat and lean—we're hot and freezing.
