I know that we have been remiss in updating here, so I wanted to share Hugo’s first joke. We were playing with his play farm, and we were putting everyone to bed in the barn.
I heard Hugo say to his Little People, “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the cows bite….”
Once he saw that his crack got a good rise out of us, he couldn’t stop himself from repeating it, ad nauseum.
Hugo has got most of his colors down pat. He can tell you with a decent degree of reliability what is brown, black, red, blue, orange, green, white, yellow, pink, and, get this, magenta. He just learned that one today.
He is very proud of his new found knowledge. He shows off constantly. This morning during breakfast at a local eatery, Hugo kept standing up in his high chair to exclaim the color of the shirt of everyone in the restaurant. An older man alone walked in wearing an oxford shirt. “Blue!” screamed Hugo. The waitress passed us. “Red!” hollered Hugo, pointing at her t-shirt. Each time he looked at me, waiting for the laudatory remarks. He learned magenta today after inquiring repeatedly about the pink-purple-red hue of my shirt, and has been repeating through the day. I put him down to sleep a little while ago, and after I left the room, as he began his nightly pre-sleep word dump, I heard him murmuring to himself, “magenta….Mama….magenta.”
Hugo is also percolating an interest in numbers and letters. I don’t think that he grasps the concept of what they represent, but he can tell you that S is for Sarah, M is for Mama, P is for Papa and Q is for Quinn, etc.
I guess all that TV exposure is finally paying dividends!
Hey, are there any Cheerios eaters out there? Because Hugo fancies the Lego speed racers that are included in Cheerios boxes right now, and he would like to ask you a favor: save the cars for him!
Wow, has it really been over a month and half since we updated this blog? Shame on us!
Lots has been going on, of course, including a visit from our friends Mat, Claire and Leo, and Thanksgiving, with its myriad car rides and celebrations. Hugo attended another wedding, where he tore up the dance floor.
We’ve nixed the idea of a Christmas tree because neither Juan or I can imagine that Hugo will take more than a few minutes to fell it, so I’m trying to recreate the Joyeux Noel ambiance with strung lights and ornaments in the window.
Hugo is acquiring many new skills, including a bit of an toddler attitude that we are attempting to curb. More charming is this, the “shhhhhhhh……” that we’ve taught him to use when sneaking up on somebody.
All in all, Hugo is pretty cute these days. He is obsessed with the color yellow, loves puttin’ the crayons to the paper and rubbing his “baba” powder into his belly, and is generally blissfully ignorant of the current financial crisis.
If Hugo were to post a Christmas list, it would go something like this:
As you can tell, Hugo is a man of diverse, if somewhat obscure, interests. We promise to do a better job of keeping you current!
Did I say the stomach flu was over? My hubris inflamed the gods, clearly. Hugo is not better, and is on day 12 of his misery (and ours). Juan and I are weary of laundry, vile odors and a very unhappy baby. Hugo has become an incontinent little dictator, ordering us around willy nilly. This morning he demanded through grunts and pointing fingers that I put Juan’s flip flops on my feet. Whatever gets you through the day, buddy…..
Juan and I were remarking on the fact that during the challenging episodes of parenthood, when the sleep is terrible or, as in now, the virus will not end, a myopia sets in. We can’t imagine that Hugo will ever return to normal. Intellectually, we know, of course, that he will recover, but in the moment it seems infinite.
This video shows Hugo’s current penchant for doling out snacks. Family and friends are no the only lucky recipients. Last week he gave a waitress at a Thai restaurant a squashed cube of watermelon. She ate it before I could tell her that etiquette did not require that. He tried to give a grubby cheerio to a fellow queuer at Mitchell’s. She declined.
Lest you think my son is destined to be a doormat, always fulfilling other’s needs and ignoring his own, you’ll see in the video that if he scratches your back, you better be ready to scratch his.
Over here we are stil grappling with the aftermath of the Terrible Stomach Flu of ‘08. It was not pretty, let me tell you. All those glamorous visions you have of motherhood? It’s not all baby powder and fuzzy hats with ears. I’ll leave it at that.
We’ve been managing to go to the playground a lot lately, as Hugo can do more and more things. A playground in our neighborhood just reopened, all new and sparkly, and we’ve also been exploring parks in surrounding neighborhoods. So, in lieu of graphic details about what a virus can do to a little boy’s body, I’ll give you pictures of Hugo at play.
In the “big kids” area at Sunnyside Playground, my current fave:
And fakin’ it ’til he makes it at the blustery Walter Haas Playground (he has no real idea how to stay on this thing if he isn’t propped up):
On the eve of his first birthday, Juan and I are overwhelmed with our son’s sheer cuteness. This is Hugo in the middle of one of his favorite new pastimes, dancing to his tunes while eating crackers. The song featured below is “Rootsman Dread,” from the critically acclaimed 2006 release from Putamayo, Reggae Playground. Hugo can’t stop himself from grooving to this song.
Admit, you’re jealous of his moves, aren’t you?
I have so much to write, about our big trip, about all the changes in Hugo of late, but this parenting gig keeps me busy. In the meantime, I wanted to post about our past weekend, because it was such a pleasure and I don’t want to forget it. The weather was perfect, Hugo was charming, and that’s all Juan and I need for a fantastic weekend.
Saturday morning Juan, Hugo and I headed to the Allemany Farmers Market, braving the crowds and parking to get some spring produce. As usual, by April I’ve long grown weary of winter produce and am doubting my commitment to eat fruits and vegetables in season. Squash, cabbage, sweet potatoes, even kiwis and citrus, the blush has worn off the rose, so to speak. It’s still early, but we spotted strawberries, asparagus, and peas. No artichokes…yet! After Hugo’s nap, he and I headed to San Rafael to scour the chaos of a warehouse liquidation sale of women’s clothing. Unlike his father, Hugo doesn’t really mind shopping with me. He was happy to sit in his stroller, munching on his beloved Zwieback crackers and letting his hands rifle through the mounds of clothing. I found such cute casual stuff for summer, all practically free! I think Hugo must have seen the intent look of bargain hunting on my face, because he didn’t make a peep the whole time.
Saturday night Juan made mussels, inspired by ones we had in Belgium, with lots of good bread and fries and a tomato salad. Hugo’s Aunt Sarah joined us and afterwards we went around the corner to Mitchell’s for ice cream. My logic: there are so few warm nights in San Francisco that they are like official holidays and must be celebrated accordingly.
Sunday, Sarah and I went to the gym while Hugo napped. When I got back, Hugo and I joined my friend Elissa on a trip to the swings at a nearby playground, followed by beers at a nearby pub that is baby-friendly, where the cute Polish waitress caught Hugo’s eye. On the way home, the three of us stopped to shop for books, and Elissa picked a great one for Hugo that he loves. We arrived home sun-soaked and exhausted, so Hugo and I napped while Juan went and got deep dish pizza, which got all lopsided coming home on the Vespa, but I reassembled it and it didn’t even matter because the weekend was so grand.
In case any of you dear readers have forgotten what it feel like to be on a swing in the summer, I offer you this tryptych, taken at a previous trip to the swings:
I arrived home from work the other day to find an enormous box waiting for me in the breezeway. It was a gift for Hugo from my childhood friend Carissa.
A pony!
Carissa’s mom Vicki painted this pony before she died last year, so this gift is very special and we are all very honored that Carissa would want Hugo to have it. Hugo seemed to be a natural in the saddle. It helps that he has been perfecting a lurching scoot forward that he was able to use, while I spotted him.
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