Gabriel's latest word: "up."
Pronounced "up-ppp."
Heard tonight as I asked him where he'd like to go.
He was pleased.
Other words in his vocab so far, in rough order of acquisition:
1) "dada"
2) "mama"
3) "uh-oh"
4) "no"
5) "book"
6) ask him what a monkey says, and he hoots like a monkey. For my money, this is almost better than a word.
A smart kid. Waiting for him to learn "yes."
Monday, December 14, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Next Jackson Pollock?
We now trust Gabriel with crayons.
This has worked out well so far, primarily because all he does with them is stand around naked and brood. Which is how a lot of the great artists start out, I think.
He seems interested in the different colors of the crayons, and likes to stockpile them in different places, but hasn't gotten into actually using them to draw yet.
A Stubborn Kid
At 18 months, Gabriel has learned the word "no."
Important to not quote him out of context, of course: the way he typically uses it is "nonononono."
Not at all clear where he picked this up, but he's getting pretty effective with it.
We're still not hearing a lot of actual words beyond this. "Book" every now and then, but that's about it. Lots of talk, but it's mostly gibberish to my ears.
What's on the Menu
Gabriel at the Museum
On a rainy Saturday in early December, we took Gabriel to the Museum of Natural History-- a place I haven't spent much time in since I was very young.
The animals all seemed smaller than I remember them being.
Gabriel wasn't especially impressed with the whale or the elephant at first sight, although he eventually took a shine to the elephant. The museum has a fair number of interactive exhibits for kids, and he obliged.
Friday, October 23, 2009
RIP, Jake
After ten and a half years, Jake left us today.
The picture at right is the pic with which he was advertised at the New York Avenue dog shelter where we found him in early 1999. He was a thin, quiet adult dog, an anomaly in a very noisy place. Terrible, terrible place to be, and he'd been there three weeks.
I knew he was the dog for me when I took him out to the shelter's fenced in yard, found a tennis ball and threw it across the yard-- and he brought it right back to me.
Even when his legs were pretty rickety this past summer, he still wanted to play catch at the beach. And until quite recently, he'd keep fetching the ball until he could barely walk anymore.
For years, whenever we'd walk down to the beach for the first time each day, he'd give this little whimper of anticipation as I pulled out the tennis ball. Really loved to chase the ball.
As a younger dog, he was capable of Willie Mays-style over-the-shoulder catches. Sometimes, I suspect, he would intentionally bounce the ball off his nose to get the rebound instead of catching it on the fly.
As good as he was with the ball (he was also fairly handy with sticks, but generally would sit down and eat them after bringing it back the first couple of times), he just never could figure out what to do with frisbees.
He was like a yoyo. You never had to worry about him running away. Would always come back, no matter how enticing the beach smells.
He also had the uncanny ability, at irregular intervals prompted by nothing specific that I could ever figure out, to give off a stench that was best described as rotting fish in a garbage bag. We'd kick him out of the room sometimes for this sin, as we also sometimes did for his farts. You'd immediately feel bad about having done so, but wow. You had to be there.
When he was especially happy, usually because he was welcoming someone home, he'd wag his tail in a beautiful, slightly askew circular motion. The "circle wag"-- as distinguished from the regular old side-to-side wag you typically saw-- was about as welcoming a sight as you could see.
He gave us a circle wag the day before he died, even though he could hardly stand.
We'll never know how much pain he was in the last few months. It was bone cancer, and the vet told us that this was a fairly painful thing. But I never, ever, even at the end, heard him whimper or cry from the pain.
The only evidence we saw was that for the last few months, after a couple of blocks he'd be ready to stop walking, and that for the last week he simply wouldn't put any weight on his back right paw.
The last couple of nights I carried him up and down from the second floor so he could sleep with us-- the few nights previous he'd stopped coming up.
Pretty much the entire last week, the only times he got up were to welcome people coming in the house or to take a leak.
A couple of times this week, we sat out on the front stoop and watched the world go by. used to do that a lot when he was healthy.
This afternoon, I came home from work to meet the vet at our house, and held Jake's head in my hands as the vet gave him anesthetic, then sodium pentathol. He took a while to respond to the anesthetic, maybe 15 minutes. Alison was holding him when he finally lost consciousness.
We both know there are a lot of shelter dogs that need homes, and Jake was always exhibit A for me in trying to convince people not to get puppies when they wanted a dog. So a shelter visit may be in our very near future. But I really just want Jake back, and right now I have trouble imagining having a different dog.
Rest in peace, old brown dog.
The picture at right is the pic with which he was advertised at the New York Avenue dog shelter where we found him in early 1999. He was a thin, quiet adult dog, an anomaly in a very noisy place. Terrible, terrible place to be, and he'd been there three weeks.
I knew he was the dog for me when I took him out to the shelter's fenced in yard, found a tennis ball and threw it across the yard-- and he brought it right back to me.
Even when his legs were pretty rickety this past summer, he still wanted to play catch at the beach. And until quite recently, he'd keep fetching the ball until he could barely walk anymore.
For years, whenever we'd walk down to the beach for the first time each day, he'd give this little whimper of anticipation as I pulled out the tennis ball. Really loved to chase the ball.
As a younger dog, he was capable of Willie Mays-style over-the-shoulder catches. Sometimes, I suspect, he would intentionally bounce the ball off his nose to get the rebound instead of catching it on the fly.
As good as he was with the ball (he was also fairly handy with sticks, but generally would sit down and eat them after bringing it back the first couple of times), he just never could figure out what to do with frisbees.
He was like a yoyo. You never had to worry about him running away. Would always come back, no matter how enticing the beach smells.
He also had the uncanny ability, at irregular intervals prompted by nothing specific that I could ever figure out, to give off a stench that was best described as rotting fish in a garbage bag. We'd kick him out of the room sometimes for this sin, as we also sometimes did for his farts. You'd immediately feel bad about having done so, but wow. You had to be there.
When he was especially happy, usually because he was welcoming someone home, he'd wag his tail in a beautiful, slightly askew circular motion. The "circle wag"-- as distinguished from the regular old side-to-side wag you typically saw-- was about as welcoming a sight as you could see.
He gave us a circle wag the day before he died, even though he could hardly stand.
We'll never know how much pain he was in the last few months. It was bone cancer, and the vet told us that this was a fairly painful thing. But I never, ever, even at the end, heard him whimper or cry from the pain.
The only evidence we saw was that for the last few months, after a couple of blocks he'd be ready to stop walking, and that for the last week he simply wouldn't put any weight on his back right paw.
The last couple of nights I carried him up and down from the second floor so he could sleep with us-- the few nights previous he'd stopped coming up.
Pretty much the entire last week, the only times he got up were to welcome people coming in the house or to take a leak.
A couple of times this week, we sat out on the front stoop and watched the world go by. used to do that a lot when he was healthy.
This afternoon, I came home from work to meet the vet at our house, and held Jake's head in my hands as the vet gave him anesthetic, then sodium pentathol. He took a while to respond to the anesthetic, maybe 15 minutes. Alison was holding him when he finally lost consciousness.
We both know there are a lot of shelter dogs that need homes, and Jake was always exhibit A for me in trying to convince people not to get puppies when they wanted a dog. So a shelter visit may be in our very near future. But I really just want Jake back, and right now I have trouble imagining having a different dog.
Rest in peace, old brown dog.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
A Country Dog
Walden 3
Hudson Valley Visit, July 09
Time for a Refill
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
On the Merry Go Round
In April (or thereabouts), Alison took Gabriel on the merry-go-round on the Mall. He was moderately amused, but the sound and lights were a bit much for him overall. Here, immediately post-ride, he takes stock of the experience. Taken on its own, his expression is sort of impassive. But by comparison to the expression of his mom, who clearly has lost none of her love for joyrides, it's clear that he's less than 100% on board with the whole experience.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Denver
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Hey Baby, Come On In!
Gabriel Loves His Duck
Dribbling Cherry Juice
New clever eating trick: chew it up, then let it slowly dribble out of your mouth. Especially effective with brightly colored food like (in this case) cherries.
Gabriel's definitely enjoying the summer fruit season. He's a big fan of blueberries, cherries and watermelon. As can be seen in the picture, he doesn't allow his technicolor drool to take away his gravitas.
21st Century Gabriel
Following in the footsteps of his technophile cousin Max, Gabriel has discovered the joys of the remote control. While he hasn't yet learned the clever Max trick of stashing all the remote controls inside a VCR, it's clearly only a matter of time. The beach house is laden with orphan remote controls that don't control much of anything, so this was a good place for him to develop this attachment.
Beach guest roster, 6/09: Rachel Koop and Larry, Jim and Mary, Arthur Koop with kids Morgan and Lauren.
Books With Wheels
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Rare Moment of Stillness
Friday, May 8, 2009
Drumming at the park
At the Sculpture Garden
A very composed Gabriel strikes a pose at the Sculpture Garden on the Mall. We haven't yet taken him inside any of the museums-- have chosen so far to show him the outdoor sights.
Like so many of the places DC has to offer, the sculpture garden will be a wonderful place to take the Goose once he's able to appreciate things a bit more. It's a wonderful city in which to be (and to raise) a child.
Like so many of the places DC has to offer, the sculpture garden will be a wonderful place to take the Goose once he's able to appreciate things a bit more. It's a wonderful city in which to be (and to raise) a child.
A Builder, or a Destroyer?
Early evidence points to "destroyer." Gabriel has developed a tendency of systematically dismantling things. Here he takes apart, one piece at a time, a stack of, well, stackable toys. His general approach upon discovering that his dad (or his grandma, whose handiwork is being taken apart in this picture) has built a stack is to start from the top, patiently tossing each piece over his shoulder using his left hand. He seems incapable of sitting in a room with a peacefully built stack-- feels compelled to disassemble it. I feel equally compelled to re-assemble. The battle of wits is ongoing.
Gabriel's 11 month birthday
We celebrated Gabriel's 11 month birthday with a trip to the Mall on a lovely April day-- walked down from our temporary 13th street digs. Gabriel went on the merry go round with Alison, who seemed much more into the whole thing than he did. Alison and Gabriel shared a bench with another parent and child. This was a difficult thing to photograph without blurriness, so you'll have to take my word that they actually got on the thing.
Climbing the Stairs
A new development since we've moved into our temporary 13th Street abode: Gabriel is climbing stairs. Frequently.
This started in early March, at the age of 10 months, with slow, deliberate, supported climbing up the carpeted steps of our apartment. He quickly became better at it, and now scoots up without even pausing, at least when he's had a good nap. Even after a few consecutive trips up the stairs, he's still ready for more. Here he poses mid-ascent.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Bath time
Paparazzi Shot
Sunday, April 19, 2009
With Eegee
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Exploring at Grandma's
Thus Endeth the Dance Career
Dancer in Training
Wendy flew in from San Francisco to join us this weekend, taking a break from her Rawdance duties to give a few pointers to our budding ballet dancer. Her presence was especially welcome in that she's the only family member left who's still capable of lifting Gabriel.
Grokking with Barry
Saturday, March 14, 2009
HUC
Room to crawl
Swing time
What's Better than Christmas? Moving Day!
One Heavy Kid!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Warm Day
It was a toasty day in a lot of ways, although we bundled up tight. Inauguration day, January 2009! Grandma Gardner babysat for Gabriel while Alison and I hunkered down by the World War Two memorial (cleverly situated close to the Jumbotron and sound systems, so we saw and heard everything better than most, I bet) to see Barack Obama usher in a new era of theocratic-socialist rule. We're all a bit apprehensive to see whether Obama will start by taking our guns or our hard-earned pay. It's a difficult choice. Whichever he chooses, I, for one, welcome our new Muslim overlords.
Here Anke Meyer was nice enough to snap a picture of us as we shivered our way homeward. Anke was volunteering as a "bike valet," a clever service offered by WABA. 16th Street south of K was shut down and hundreds of bikes were penned in-- a scene reminiscent of Amsterdam.
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