Sage's milestones

(first in a continuing series)
Sage had her first home bath when she was about two weeks old. Dean and I had heard all these horror stories about children who slipped in their baby tubs and thus developed a traumatic lifelong water phobia, so we were utterly terrified. (Which is pretty funny for two people who are of the arrogant conviction that they can learn to do anything well, as long as it doesn't involve math.) So I compulsively read and reviewed all the resource material I could find, Dean bought the safest baby bathtub this side of Timbuktu, and, in compliance with all available advice, we assembled a veritable plethora of shampoos, baby washes, towels, facecloths, cotton pads, and dippers next to the tub before the big event commenced.

To our delight and surprise, she immediately took to bathing like a fish to... well, water. She giggled, cooed, and gurgled; in a matter of months, she was splashing away merrily, taking special delight in getting her parents and the surrounding furniture just as soaked as she was. To this day, although she's graduated to the shower stall and the occasional bubble bath in her inflatable mini-pool, she still revels in anything that has to do with water or bubbles. She makes a very indecorous mermaid, however, as she has the tendency to shriek, squeal, and occasionally attempt to 'wash' her fully-clothed mommy.


bathtime for Baby Bunny
On a related note, I took Sage for her monthly check-up today, and she always gets a special treat when we go to the doctor's office, to encourage her to think of the visit as a happy event. So after she got her immunization shot (which she was very brave about, as usual) and a clean bill of health, I asked her what she wanted as a reward. Without hesitation, she replied, "Baby Bunny bath."

Baby Bunny, of course, is the infant toy rabbit that lives in her stupendous Sylvanian Families dollhouse. We had been pretending to bathe Baby Bunny just that morning, but since Sage had serious objections to using the baby's bassinet as a tub ("Mommy! That bed!"), and I had explained to her that we couldn't give Baby Bunny a real bath in the bathroom because her fur would be ruined, we were forced to use my cupped hands in lieu of a bathtub. So I told Sage that we would get Baby Bunny a proper bath soon, and apparently, she decided that 'soon is now'. Thus, the latest addition to the House on the Hill is an old-fashioned tub-and-toilet set, with faux bubbles that we repurposed out of potpourri balls from a handy scent shop.


post script
Sage is sick! She has just the slightest touch of fever and a hint of swelling from her shot today. The doctor cautioned us that this might happen, but Sage has been invincible to such immunization-caused ailments until now. So she's been up and down all night: sometimes perky and excited over her dollhouse bathroom; sometimes listless and limping, favoring her non-injected right leg; and finally fretful and crying at bedtime. Dean and I finally got her to sleep after much cuddling, singing, and judicious use of our patented 'soothing' tones of voice. Now, of course, we're listless and fretful-- comes with the territory, though.

The upshot is, I finally figured out a way to get her to take her medicine without a fuss. She used to hate the whole procedure so much that she'd get upset at the mere sight of a medicine bottle or measuring spoon. So tonight I tried pouring the dose into an empty Jellyace container and giving it to her to swallow on her own. The sticky pink stuff looked all bright and cheerful in the little cup, and she gulped it down with nary a word of complaint. So yay for lateral thinking! I'm getting better at this 'mommy' gig every day...

my hero

Dollhouse notwithstanding, Dean and I are trying to raise Sage in a sort of gender-neutral fashion. We tell her that she's strong and tough as well as smart and pretty; and we encourage her to be fairly rough-and-tumble when it's appropriate, and to just pick herself up when she falls or gets hurt. I didn't realize how well this was working until one evening when we were watching the Justice League cartoon together. She was running around pretending to fly as the opening credits were playing, so I pointed at the TV screen and asked her, "Sagey, are you being Wonder Woman?" She looked at me with this sort of quizzical frown, and said patiently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "No, Mommy. I Superman!"


every inch an Alfar
Unlike her heathen parents, Sage goes to church every week, attending Sunday school at the fellowship just behind our building. They do projects and activities which are supposed to teach them about God and Christian living, but of course, a room populated by children is bound to get a little rowdy from time to time. Last week, the class was so noisy that the moderator was straining to make herself heard. So Miss Sage, apparently empathizing with her teacher, got to her feet, turned to face her classmates, and authoritatively commanded them: "QUIET!"

At just a little over two years old, she's one of the youngest of the group, but clearly not the most timid. Yesterday, they were asked to turn in drawings labeled with their names. Sage's nanny had written her name down for her, but Sage managed to scribble over her first name in the course of drawing. So when the moderator was handing the submitted pages back, she couldn't read Sagey's first name and had to ask, "Who is Alfar?" To which our little girl promptly replied, "That mine!" (which is an incredible connection for a toddler to make, by the way), and went over to retrieve her paper with an air of self-assured aplomb.

The House on the Hill
Uncle Vin helped Daddy and Mommy buy Sage this gorgeous dollhouse! It was literally the last one available in the country (The distributor confirmed this rumor for us.), so we had to hustle to get our hands on it, since it's considered the best house in the Sylvanian Families range. We had to strip Sage's other dollhouse, the Old Mill, in order to furnish it, and in spite of the hand-me-downs from the mill and one or two new items that we picked up, it's far from fully set up... which is part of the fun, of course! It has a total of nine rooms to decorate, not counting the porch and balcony on the other side of the house. (Note Daddy Bunny sound asleep in the kitchen!)
Sage utterly adores it, especially the new baby bunny that we got so that her own animal icon, Sage Bunny, could now be an ate (big sister). She loves feeding her 'bunny sister' with her tiny milk bottle, guiding her down the little nursery slide, and rocking her to sleep in her miniature bassinet.

Sagey Bunny in her attic bedroom

Daddy Bunny and Uncle Vin in the kitchen

Mommy Bunny on the hall telephone

As of today, Sage:
1. loves Dora the Explorer, Nemo, Blue from Blue's Clues, and most of all, Winnie-the-Pooh.
2. has apparently decided to live on a diet of French fries, Coke, boiled eggs, milkshakes, and yogurt. Takes after equally unhealthy parents.
3. adores swimming, bathing, watching fountains, and generally anything to do with running water. Obviously not a witch.
4. dotes on her Sylvanian Families dollhouse, populated by 4 fuzzy toy animals: Daddy Bunny, Mommy Bunny, Sagey Bunny, and Uncle Vinnie the doggie.
5. squeals in delight over her real-life bunnies, Cocoa and Sugar.
6. is a little chatterbox! (More on this to follow.)


Sage words
I'd estimate that Sage knows over 50 words by now. Among her favorite expressions are "shark" (used when gleefully scaring her parents), "super-yummy" (in reference to the aforementioned French fries, milkshakes, etc.) and "Akin pillow!" (used when 'punishing' her parents for not doing what she wants-- by swiping our pillows!). Also, "Help me!" is often utilized in combination with a plaintive expression when her nanny is carrying her off to bed against her will.

Welcome!
Okay, the main reason Sage now has a blog of her own is that her mother (That would be me.) has finally admitted that she is a terrible scrapbook-keeper. Just terrible. Sage is more than two years old now, and I've yet to complete a single baby book to commemorate her baby adventures. And she's such an amazing kid, she deserves a proper chronicle of her growing-up.

So this is it, Sage's electronic journal. Not only is it safe from physical loss or damage, it's easy to update and encourages participation from her many online admirers. (Please note that her blogroll is composed of people that Sage has actually met-- if I've forgotten someone, please let me know.)