Back in Action

The crickets have been replaced by the hum of engines.
The locusts have been replaced by the chirp of rap songs.
Home again, I contemplate the wonders of the past two weeks of vacations.

I sit, smoking my pipe, thinking through the rises and falls of the toddler psyche.
Friends, I am now two years old and frankly, I'm loving it.

As the pigeons squawk me to a deep slumber this evening, I rest in gratefulness to my extended families. Thank you for the vacations.


You may not recognize me anymore. Post vacation, I now can sleep without my pacifier, throw a football backwards, say "nana" (for banana), "this way," and "okay." I'm a pro-biker, a cow fan, and a funnel-cake enthusiast.

My bro is doing well, according to mom. She hides him in her stomach. Weird.

There will be pictures to come in the next few posts with more details, but here is the lowest and highest point according to me.

Highest point: It's a toss up between my arrival at Uncle Bruce's cabin to find out that Pop Pop and Mom Mom had lugged up a little tikes basketball net for me (!) and the evening I carried an entire pile of dirty clothes, one at a time, shrieking with joy, running at full speed, from the back bedroom to my mother in the living room at the house we stayed in at the beach.

Lowest point: The drive home. The 6 1/2 hour trip turned into a 9 1/2 hour trip in the midst of a heat wave in New York City. No air conditioning. Mom with heavy car sickness. I resorted to chucking things out the window in hopes that it would make them stop the car. My shoe stopped the car, but none of my other tries worked. I have lost window privileges.