melted smoosh

dear Sweetpea, some days i don't know whether you're fifteen months or fifteen years old. you've perfected this coy little smile that you give us when you know you're being cute (or, sometimes, for no apparent reason at all).    you eat with silverware most of the time. you sit on the piano bench and play, and sometimes sing.  you cradle Daddy's cell phone between your ear and your shoulder and babble away, accentuating your dramatic tales by shaking your finger or putting your hand on your hip. (for posterity's sake, i will clarify that this cell phone is an ancient Nokia, not a smart-phone, and it will live forever and ever to spite me by proving Daddy's eternal point that Old Things Are Better.) and, miracle of miracles, you're walking. you took your first steps exactly as expected around your first birthday, but after that, you were content to crawl around the house or be carried when we were outside. sometimes i'd catch you taking u

there was a point of no return, sometime around the era that our summer CSA produce baskets began, when we became mildly obsessed with cooking shows. Iron Chef America, Top Chef, Hell's Kitchen, MasterChef, Chopped, Food Network Star, etc. etc. etc. and one fateful evening, we were watching the show most guaranteed to make you feel like an inept loser ( MasterChef Junior , where the ten-year-olds make better sushi than I can), when the bar was set for our next culinary challenge.  the kids made Beef Wellington.  photo credit Fox.com/masterchef-junior since that time, we've honed our cooking chops, and essentially everyone except me has been slowly transforming into homesteaders with homemade mozzarella and ricotta cheese, ginger bug, beer, bourbon vanilla, kefir, hot sauce, and various pickled vegetables. (i've been a little more focused on babies.) and finally, a few weeks ago, we decided it was time to attempt the holy grail. armed with an amalgam of recipes from Al

before every nap, and at bedtime, and usually a few times throughout the day, Greta and i snuggle up to read together. i remember reading to her for the very first time when she was a week old, and choking back tears because i couldn't believe i was actually reading to my daughter like i'd been dreaming about for years ( see also: postpartum hormones ). now there is certainly no shortage of books in our house, but i'm a little picky when it comes to the ones we read aloud day in and day out. the text has to be colorful (and if it rhymes, the rhythm has to flow easily); the illustrations should be captivating. and of course, Greta has to love it too. the following board books fit the bill!  1. Little Blue Truck , by Alice Schertle / illustrated by Jill McElmurry Such a fun read-aloud, with lots of animal (and truck!) sounds. The cheerful plot emphasizes community, but avoids veering into annoying Moral-of-the-Story territory. (Thank you to the Hoynes!)