Feldman Cubs

Mom distracted me with the TV long enough to get these pretty bows into my hair.

What you’re seeing here is me not putting up a fight.

I can’t deny it: this is cute.

It is a little subtle, though, with only one full package of bows in my hair.

I wonder if they sell these in 55-gallon drums at Costco.

Even Osa got in on the fun.

What do you think? Do they work on me?

Good–because they’re never coming out.

Yesterday was gymnastics again. Instead of walking the plank, I had to hold on to this bar.

They claimed that the mat was wired for a “mild corrective response,” but I tested it out and nothing happened.

See? No correction. By the way, I’m posting this from Dad’s laptop, which he claims is from 2004. Now, I happen to know that they didn’t even have computers in 2004, so I think he’s just exaggerating. Nevertheless, posting might be a bit light for a few days. Regardless of the year when they made this thing, it’s pretty slow and has Photoshop 2 or something. And I can’t get anything done without dual monitors anymore.

I actually like doing this. I figure it will stretch me out. I’ll get above that third percentile for height in no time.

Today, I was walking down the block when the neighborhood kitty asked me for directions to a good sushi place. Dad took this photo of me explaining how to get to Sushi Zanmai, where they make wasabi dinosaurs. I have no idea how the fish is there, but the dinosaurs are worth the price of admission, and I have a hard time believing that a cat could be very picky about akagai.

This is my bear, Osa. These days, Osa wears a diaper and asks me to give her water from a sippy cup.

From my parents’ excellent example, I’m learning how to take care of a baby.

Open wide, Osa. I don’t have all day. Boxing is on CBS this afternoon and I’ve got five c-notes on that bald kid from Detroit.

Oh, hello there.

I didn’t notice you come in. I was busy watching TV while sitting under the end table and poking my head out, leaning on the ottoman.

It’s a new thing I do.

I also grab pens and write all over my parents’ mail.

Oh, yes. This one will do nicely.

The parents subject me to weekly gymnastics training now. Apparently I am to make the national team before I get too old. So I have 10 years to go.

Somehow this does not seem natural.

After an hour of walking the plank, I was given my daily meal at the local organic sustainable whole-grain community-oriented gluten-free cooperative wind-powered all-natural watering hole.

You can really taste the cooperation!

I kid. I kid. I love this stuff. And since we were out in public, I even got to eat while clothed.

I’m as surprised as you are.

Last but not least, here’s a picture of me dad at 15 months. He is poking a Smith-Corona “type-writer,” which apparently is what people used to communicate before the printing press was invented. In the background, you can see my grandparents’ iron perched atop an old ironing board, which is what people placed near babies before safety was invented.