Kitty. Ball. Bye. Dada?

(Picture: Isabelle hanging out with her friend, Olivia, and Dad, Matt. Others at the dinner party, but not pictured: Heather, Todd & Mark, Maura & Arthur aka Mr. Spitz, and Bri.)

As much as I'd like to hear "Mama" every time I enter a room, it seems "Dada" has the edge. Sometimes clothes and stuffed animals are also greeted with "Dada" - but Daddy definitely gets the most enthusiastic version which is always accompanied by fervent clapping. No one gets quite the reaction as the kitty, though! If Mik would allow it, Isabelle would chase him around all day with a look of grand anticipation, followed by stunned ecstasy whenever she manages to pull a piece of fur.

Speaking of cats... what's that saying? When the cat's away...

This weekend while I was at the Rochester High Falls International Festival (loved it!), Dennis and Isabelle were (from what I've been told) eating french fries (didn't we just get a massive order of Earth's Best organic?), going to the theater (Pirates of Penzance), downing hotdogs (all of a sudden ice cream brain freeze doesn't seem so bad) and checking out the everybody-knows-your-name scene at Grumpies (worth it for the story of the 18-month-olds).

Yesterday, one of the daycare workers told me Isabelle is stubborn. Hmmmm... not quite sure what to do with that information. I bet Isbelle had started up that same tired argument that almost ruined Christmas: "No! Not Zwieback! Cherrios! Cheerios! Cheerios are the best invention ever! Ehhhhhhhhhhh-verrrrrrrr."

Shout out to Cousin Anika who's cruisin' the Las Vegas strip "diaper style" this week.

Principle Pictures Flouts Child Labor Laws

Look who we found working the PP mailroom!

Peanuts, Cracker Jacks and... Green Peppers!

Front row at the EMC Club - not bad for Isabelle's first baseball game! Thanks Uncle Orvie and Auntie Kelly!

Before we took our seats, Isabelle held a World Series ring which was quickly snatched away when she started chewing on it. Then through this white table-clothed world we went... "Go out this door, and stop when you get right behind home plate," the concierge told us.

The Boston Globe described "upstairs at Fenway" this way in an article back in April 2006: "The Red Sox's new $275-a-game haven is perfectly designed to appeal to the rich, the very rich, and the merely well connected. The little touches are everywhere. Valet parking attendants stand ready to take ticket holders' cars. Heaters above the seats -- think french-fry warmers -- protect the bigwigs from Boston's often-chilly weather. They can be escorted to batting practice and visit the Green Monster to get their photos taken. Even the restrooms come with fresh flowers and scented soap. No troughs here."

Wait a minute!! Batting practice? Photos at the Green Monster?? Next time... Oh, and tickets now cost $300 a game, but the modest family sitting behind us snapped up four seats on game day for half price.

And although crab cakes and lobster rolls were offered on the menu, we stayed loyal to our Fenway franks and Italian sausages... giving Isabelle a chance to enjoy her first green (monster) pepper -- much to Uncle Orvie's horror...

Stand and Deliver

It's four days before her 8 month "birthday" - and Isabelle can add "pulls herself up to stand" and "one-handed show-off standing tricks" to her resume. She's only been in the crib for a few days (we promised ourselves that when we got back from the Sonoma Valley Film Festival that it was time), but already she's gotten the hang of spindles as leverage and using the crib for baby theater. Her audience of two gasped and clapped on cue, and the performer finally wore herself out.

Another first today - playing in the sand. We had thought about going for a pool swim, but the high temps lured us to take a walk on New Silver Beach instead in the same sands her Dad played in when he was a little boy... The white, smooth rock Isabelle tried to eat reminded us of Etretat's shingle beach, and we saved it for her Memory Tree.

Especially Strawberries

The first strawberry was quickly followed by the second and third. When those were devoured, a fourth and fifth weren't far behind. Fortunately, two professional photographers were on hand at the St. Francis Winery in Sonoma to capture it all - giving us an opportunity to enjoy this "paparazzi" moment.

The next day we stopped at Whole Foods hoping to pick up Zweiback (they don't carry it), and I found myself reading a book about making your own baby food (love the concept, can't imagine the execution... but I suspect it would go something like my canning experiment a few years ago. The short version: Everyone we know received "Beth and Dennis' Excellent Turkey Soup" for Christmas, and I soon became terrified that I had poisoned everyone when I mistook the pungent smell of broccoli rabe--I thought I'd bought baby broccoli--for botulism.) According to this book, what's the Number One food to avoid during baby's first year? Berries. Especially strawberries.