Shannon Phillips

Robin had his first birthday this week!  We took the train up to Reno to celebrate the day with Nonna, Pappy, the Anti-Sara, and Great-Grandma Elsie.  The train ride was super fun: we saw beautiful scenery and chatted with nice folks, and Robin had a lot better time crawling up and down the aisles of the train than he would have strapped into a car seat.

I baked a carrot cake for Robin’s birthday and we strung up some crepe paper and decorations:

Robin had no idea what was going on, of course, although he enjoyed a few bites of cake, and he seemed to really like it when we all sang “Happy Birthday” at him.  He got many lovely presents, but his favorite of all was that purple flowered bag you can see in the picture.  He spent quite a lot of time happily playing with the bag once it had been emptied of presents.

I had the bittersweet thought that one eighteenth of Robin’s time in our care has already elapsed.  It seems unreal.  At the same time, though, one year old is a good age.  Robin’s now active and communicative enough to be interesting and fun, but he’s also still cuddly and small, the perfect size for picking up and snuggling.  Yesterday he grabbed my shirt, pulled himself close to my face, and planted a deliberate, sloppy kiss right on me.  I got all misty.  We are so blessedly lucky.  I’m filled with gratitude for the year we have had, and for the years we have ahead.  Robin’s too young to know what a birthday means, but to me it was profoundly significant.

So, when we first brought Robin home from the hospital, he was not a fan of bathtime. But Nanita managed to bring him around by making sure the water was warm enough and providing him with plenty of bath toys, and for a while there, he had a good time in the tub.

I don’t know what happened, but lately, he’s decided that being bathed is like baby torture. As soon as the heel of his foot touches the water he starts screaming, and when his butt sits down in the tub he arches his back and flings himself from side to side, still screaming. This happens no matter how tepid or warm the water is. I’ve no idea what the problem is because he still really likes splashing his feet in fountains, and whenever Sam or I am taking a shower he’ll crawl in the bathroom and pull himself up on the side of the tub so that he can peer in.

So we decided to go with that, and instead of trying to bathe him we simply brought him in the shower with us. Cleaning Robin this way is a two-person job: one person holds the slippery-wet baby while the other soaps him up. But it worked! He didn’t protest at all except when he got a little bit of shampoo in his eyes, and even then he was quickly soothed.

And afterwards we wrapped him in this adorable bumble-bee towel that Pappy and Nonna gave us, and it was so cute I had to take a picture.

We patted a goat!

We saw a donkey!

We played in the sandbox!

And swung on the swings!

All pictures by Sam!

Sam and Robin are going to a picnic today! (I’m enjoying a day off from mommy duties.) It will help distract Robin from the departure of his Pappy and Nonna, who came up to visit for a couple days. It was wonderful to see them as always.

We had a real nice Father’s Day this last weekend—we met Pappy and Aunt Bee in Davis and spent a lovely day at the Western Railway Museum there. We got to ride two vintage trolley cars: they were so lovely, and made me nostalgic for the days when everybody would dress up nice, putting on their gloves and hats to ride the train. Robin is here modeling his Pappy’s hat! Sam has a bunch more pictures too.

Robin had his first playdate this week. This is Anastasia, and she is a charmer. She was born just a few days after Robin and she lives in our building. Her mom and I kept talking about getting the babies together, but one thing or another always came up. Anyway we finally made a date and stuck to it.

It was ‘Stasia’s first playdate as well as Robin’s, and I must say both babies were hilariously ill-mannered. Robin was very interested in ‘Stasia, an interest he expressed by trying to smack her and pull her hair. ‘Stasia was much more engaged by whatever Robin happened to be holding, and spent her time grabbing things out of his hands.

Then Robin crawled over to ‘Stasia’s mommy Ranesha and had some fun playing with her—right up until I picked up ‘Stasia and was cuddling with her. At that point Robin started protesting loudly. He can’t quite form the words, but the sentiment was clear: “HEY! That’s MY mommy! MOMMY! Quit talking to that other baby and look at ME!”

Little ruffians, both of them. You’d never know it from this angelic picture. They’re playing with our cellphones here—I’d like to think they’re trying to text each other, but the truth is they’re probably racing each other to hack into the defense grid. If our children set off the next global thermonuclear war, I’m sorry. We were just trying to socialize them a bit.

So we signed Robin’s contract with the talent agency and sent it back to them this weekend. We were sort of delayed in returning the paperwork because I also had to run around town obtaining a “Permit to Work in the Entertainment Industry” for him, which basically allows us to not run afoul of child labor laws.

Anyway the contract is pretty funny. Robin (“hereinafter referred to as TALENT”) was instructed to note whether or not he was willing to work nude; whether he was willing to appear alongside tobacco or alchohol products; and whether he was okay with furs or lingerie. The TALENT was also instructed to rate, on a numbered scale, his level of skill in several dozen categories that included things like dancing, sports, horseback riding, sharpshooting, and fencing. Honesty compels me to report that the TALENT rates abysmally in every single category.

The TALENT’s actual, er, talents include the following:

* Producing a trilling noise by rolling his tongue

* Pulling himself up to a standing position with the aid of various pieces of furniture, chiefly the sofa

* Sticking his fingers into people’s mouths and, upon successful execution of this maneuver, chortling with delight

* Chewing and swallowing fairly large chunks of foods, such as bananas or soft breads

But none of these appeared on the contract.

The agency also wanted us to send in some pictures suitable for use as publicity photos, so I set up two impromptu photo shoots, one at the park and one in our bedroom. Here are the results:

I put larger versions of all these photos up on Flickr, so that should hold you people for a little while.

Oh and also I had a birthday this week; it was lovely, and I got many splendid gifts, so thank you all for your kind words and thoughtful presents.

This weekend we got to see Nanita for a quick visit, and she noticed something we had not: Robin seems to favor his left hand when reaching for things. Maybe he’s left-handed! It wouldn’t be too surprising: the Anti-Sara is left-handed, and my mom originally was too, until she burned her hand as a baby.

Mom took this picture at the park:

Wheeee!

A lazy afternoon in The Pharaoh apartments…

Robin made a friend at the park today!

And here’s one just of the boy: