And Now For Old Photos of Greg at Vera’s Age

For all you who said that Veronica and I look alike based on yesterday's pictures, you'll probably have to rescind now.

Behold, Greg's baby pictures:

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Old Photos of Me at Vera’s Age

It's a tiresome fact that Veronica looks just like her Dad, but I came across these old photos of me the other day. According to the dates on the back, I am just about a year old.

There's a similarity there, right? Right?

(click to enlarge)

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Now I just wish there was a similarity between me and my own gorgeous mother.

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17 Month Letter

Dear Veronica,

Today you turn 17 months. An esteemable age, I think. You are hearty and rambunctious these days, very much a part of the world.

Cat bliss

I don't think I've ever been prouder of you as I am right now. You are talking nonstop and so very brave about trying new words and phrases. We stopped counting how many words you could say when we got to 30, but I wouldn't be surprised if you're at 50 by now. You understand the varied meanings of lots of them too, saying, "bye" when you can't pronounce "goodnight," and saying "up" when I'm holding a book too far away, instead of the other way you often use that word to demand that I lift you so that you may cling to me like a little monkey. Uuup! Uuup!

However, your favorite word in the whole world is one you made up yourself: Noni. This means nursing and in the morning when daddy brings you into bed with us, you heave yourself at me, dramatically yelling NONI! to my sensitive-5-am ears. You also yell NONI! in the car, at the playground, in Target, and when on walks through the neighborhood, although I do not oblige you as often as you might wish.

I'm a little concerned about how I'm ever going to wean you, but I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Maybe you'll wean yourself. Ha, wishful thinking Mama!

Well little bug, it's mid-November and it's been uncharacteristically warm, affording us a few more weeks of long, drawn-out afternoons at the park. Soon it will be winter though and your father and I have no doubt that we will struggle mightily to keep you entertained within the confines of the apartment.

I suspect there will be lots of tea parties. (Don't worry, not of the Republic sort. We knew you were a die-hard Democrat the day you were born.) Besides NONI! your other favorite activity is having tea parties with your dolls. You have quite a little clique of them now. There's Jackie and Margie and Lulu and Baby, and you spend an amazing amount of time busying yourself about with them, making sure they are all in the right position in their chairs around the table or in the little baby high chair. They all get fed and rocked and sometimes you even change their imaginary diapers, which I find quite endearing. Maybe you'll learn to change your own diaper one of these days.

And all the while you are growing in these inumerable and wretchedly cute ways, your father and I are practically drowning ourselves in work, trying our damnedest to create a new life for all of us. Our move-to-California date suddenly looms large and the amount of projects we have on the burner right now would easily require a fancy and no-doubt very expensive stove.

I wonder what you'll think of us when you're old enough to do so. Will you think we're weird? Or cool? Will you hate us or love us? Will you roll your eyes as you tell your new college roommate about your old parents? Or will you be glad that we are who we are? I'm sure it will be some amalgam of all of the above. We all hate and love our parents, I think.

Just know that we adore you though. Absolutely adore you. Know that each night when I put you to bed, not a half hour goes by before I miss you. Know that when you were in Ohio with your grandparents for three days last month your father and I spent the better part of one of those evenings looking at pictures of you and talking about how proud of you we are.

Know that everything we do, absolutely everything, is for you.

Love,

Mama

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