Larry Who?

I've chronicled quite a few moments that have made me proud during Greta's first 20 months. But there was perhaps none better than this afternoon. We were visiting her soulmate Jay, who scored a plastic adjustable basketball hoop from one of his aunts this Christmas. The lowest setting is 3 feet and Jay must have spent 15 minutes trying to toss the rubber ball underhanded high enough to make a basket. Greta was shy at first, having just woken up from a nap in the car. But when she finally let go of Mommy and joined the game, she picked up the ball, walked over to the hoop, stood on her tip-toes, and slam dunked it with two hands. It was impressive to say the least. The backboard might have shattered had it been made of glass.

Christmas slideshow

12 hours late, but as promised, here are 57 images of the Merrills on Christmas Day and Dec. 26. We missed being with family, but we enjoyed starting our own traditions and relaxing without all the travel stress.

Strawberries will never be the same

Greta had her first of the chocolate-covered variety on Christmas Day, thanks to her friend Sadie Bengs. Full Christmas slideshow coming later this evening.

Baby on board

I imagine most everyone who reads this has now received our Christmas letter, so the proverbial cat is out. We're expecting in July. We've asked Greta countless times if she's excited to be a big sister, and her response varies: Sometimes she smiles and shakes her head "yes," sometimes she grins and says "no." But she HAS noticed Mommy's tummy getting bigger. So Mommy has pointed to it and said, "Baby."

Well, Greta is now convinced that we all are carrying babies in our tummies, including her own.

Best Christmas gift

Flashback to a Christmas morning in the 1970s: Tow-headed Robbie Merrill and his big sister Sara, upstairs in her room, playing "Do a Number" and waiting for dawn. At first light or a little after, Mom & Dad wake up and everyone heads downstairs. The tree is overflowing with presents; the brightly colored boxes and packages look like roots.

Dad makes coffee; Mom is wearing one of her really thin, sheer nightgowns. This was before the terrycloth revolution. Robbie always thought she was slippery.

Robbie & Sara tear into the presents, distributing them one-by-one to people in the room (which does not yet include Grandma & Grandpa Merrill, but will after we make a dent in the presents' pile). One present in particular makes an odd noise when Robbie shakes it. A faint, muffled ringing. When it's his turn, he peels back the wrapping paper (covered with trains, it's always covered with trains in my memory) and reveals a Xylophone. It was the first X-word I'd ever learned, but I'd never seen one in person. A funny looking contraption, with metal "keys" of increasingly larger lengths bolted on two strips of wood. Below the keys, haphazardly taped so it wouldn't rattle too much, was what looked like a wooden lollipop. Yellow handle, with a blue ball on top. It was, of course, the mallet. But to Robbie's mind, it was a Weapon of Mass Destruction. I think I might have tinkled the keys with it once or twice, but it seemed much more suitable for another task -- bonking Sara on the head. Oh, the sound it made! Hollower than I expected (was her head emptier than I thought?), with just the slightest vibration in the wood. Donk!

Fast-forward to Christmas Day, 2006. I'm staring down the barrel of 35 years old, my 20-month-old daughter on my knees. There's a pretty candy-cane striped box under the tree with a Pottery Barn for Kids logo. It's slightly heavy, but noiseless. Greta grabs it and brings it to me. I loosen the tape so she can rip the paper. It's too heavy for clothes, but it's from my sister so it must be something thoughtful and unique. I give up trying to guess and Greta doesn't care for the guessing game yet, so off comes the box top. What's inside?

It's a 21st century update on the Xylophone: Pastel-colored wooden keys that don't ring as loudly and two -- yes, two! -- mallets (also uncolored; natural wood is in this year). Greta hasn't totally figured it out yet, but she can run the mallets across the keys and produce a pleasant riff.

Naturally it's my favorite gift. I'm sworn by the Parenthood Oath to never hit my kid, but it's tempting at times. Particularly since my ever-thoughtful sister has now given me the tool.

A capital Christmas

Home for the holidays for only the second time post-marriage, we were determined to do something we wouldn't have done if we were in Syracuse or Rodman. At about 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve, we loaded Greta into the CRV and drove across the river. Our mission? Capture some family snapshots in the iconic settings that define this town.

Here's the National Christmas Tree, a live 85-foot Colorado blue spruce that grows just outside the White House grounds. Greta admired the enormity of it and wouldn't turn to face the camera.

This is Freedom Plaza, a small urban park popular with the homeless and skateboard crowd. If you're a Daily Show fan, it's also the digitized backdrop they use whenever their Washington correspondent is reporting. It's got a great view down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol.

We also made it over to the Washington monument, that phallic tribute to this nation's first president. Finally secure in this post-9/11 world, the grounds are again open to the public. We took advantage of the windy day and flew a kite.

Ducks, seagulls & pigeons

Greta's identified ducks for awhile -- rubber ones, plastic ones, real ones. She also learned how to say "seagulls," which she clearly breaks into two syllables: "sea-gull." Yesterday, we tried our best to teach her "pigeon." During a stroll through Old Town, Mommy found some stale corn and puffs in her purse. Greta thought the ducks would like it, but she couldn't throw it far enough to hit the water. So it hit the dock instead and the pigeons swooped in like they hadn't eaten in weeks. Greta found the whole thing amusing. Like going on a bear hunt, she wasn't scared.

Thirsty kitty

Remember Greta's baby doll? The one she likes to feed with a bottle? The bottle that we couldn't find so Mommy improvised? Well, we found the bottle. But now it's not the doll who's thirsty.

Wildlife photography

A tip of the hat to my blogging sister for this post's headline. Last Sunday we visited the National Zoo with Grandma & Grandpa before their flight home. The pandas were in rare form. Usually they sit way up in a tree or way back in their rather large "habitat." But Sunday they roamed freely and came quite close to the camera. This is the Daddy, Tian Tian, who was preoccupied with scratching an itch on his back. We also saw the zoo's digital control room, where a staffer, highly paid I hope, operates a joystick all day tracking the movements of baby Tai Shan for Animal Planet's "Panda Cam."

My vote for best zoo animal, however, isn't the cuddly pandas. It's the 4-ton, 15-foot Nile Hippopotamus, who can hold his breath underwater for 6 minutes. Greta points at him and says, "Hippo!" but she doesn't like to watch him very long.

I also like this shot. Greta's "is it OK?" glance back and Grandma & Grandpa's steady walk forward seem to sum up the generation gap. I think the photo was taken after Greta coughed up her breakfast on the walkway, which the sparrows quickly consumed.

Greta Loo-Who

You saw Grandma Merrill putting the scrunchy in her hair, now you can see what Greta did with it. It was like her Superman vest. She was able to climb faster, jump higher and talk in complete paragraphs. Oh, and dance disco like John Travolta in "Stayin' Alive.'

Thanks, Grandma & Grandpa!

A lovely, albeit brief visit from Grandma and Grandpa. Two photos say more than words.

Happy Birthday, my love

Carey Ann Mathews Merrill, aka Greta's mom, is 35 today. We celebrated in spectacular fashion yesterday with a night in Washington, Va., home to The Inn at Little Washington, a culinary experience on many people's "do before I die" lists. Here's Carey with her first course.

And here I am with my main course.


And here we both are, fat and happy, afterwards.

We left Greta in the capable hands of her paternal grandparents. The inn is just 65 miles outside D.C., so we were actually gone for less than 24 hours. Came home today and had a nice afternoon stroll through Old Town, followed by some cookie making at home. Greta participated only in the eating.

Learning to be a mother

It seems a little early yet, but Greta is embracing her inner mother. Carey broke down on a recent shopping trip (Marshall's?) and bought Greta a baby doll. Greta let it sit in the toy box for awhile, but now it's with her most of the time. She drowns it in the tub, she carries it into her crib, and she feeds it a bottle. Of course, it came with a tiny toy bottle, but we're pretty sure that's rolling around underneath a car seat. So last night when Greta started saying "Bottle! Bottle! Bottle!" Carey had to improvise. Luckily, we saved a few of the Avent bottles and nipples, and that did the trick. Cute. Also note the new top tooth, about halfway descended.

'Tis the season

As promised, we (well, Carey mostly) trimmed the tree yesterday and Greta already has a present under it! Neither myself nor Greta were much in the mood; we mostly watched from the couch between football snaps. But Greta appreciated it when it was done. The Pottery Barn beanbag is courtesy of Grandma & Grandpa Merrill. She doesn't quite understand it's hers yet. When she does, we'll get a photo of her lounging on it.


For some reason, Sunday was also sort of Daddy's Day. Maybe Greta knew Mommy needed a break, but she clung to me more than usual and used my name a LOT more than usual. Taking advantage of that, I forced her to play the male version of dress-up. She left the hat on for at least 10 minutes.

It's beginning to look a lot like...

We picked up the tree today. A $45, 5-foot Douglas fir. Nice shape, but that's a lot of money for a dead evergreen. Greta likes it though, even without any decorations.

We'll trim it tomorrow... more pix then, promise.

Still afraid of Santa

We had breakfast with the jolly old man this morning at Rock Bottom Brewery. A fundraiser to support AIDS Ministries. Thought we'd be charitable and get our annual photo with Kris Kringle. Alas, here's the kid in the great man's presence:

Even Jewish Jay couldn't bring himself to face the red guy:

But they had their happy moments, too:

Cute story

I'm in NYC today and tomorrow, so no pix to share, but thought I'd share a story from daycare. Breakfast always arrives on a cart some time around 8 a.m. I aim to get Greta there just in time for the food, but sometimes we're early. Lately, I've dropped her off around 7:50. She shows me things in the room and brags about me to her friends until the food comes. When the kitchen drops off the food, they don't wheel it in. They leave it outside the door on a cart, but they jiggle the doorknob to let the daycare providers know it's ready. That's their signal to clean up the room and start washing kids' hands.

But now Greta is on to their signal.

On Tuesday, we were reading book XIV in the award-winning Elmo series of board books when the doorknob was jiggled. We were clear on the other side of the room, but Greta's baby ears heard it immediately. She shot out of my lap and proclaimed, "Clean up!" She then proceeded to sing her baby-talk version of the song, which the ladies use to inspire the kids into helping, but which I'm told only Greta has bothered to learn. It sounds vaguely like this: "Mina! Mina! Evey-buddah mina!"

Pavlov and his dogs have nothing on our kid.

Dinner date with Jay

After Carey's cookie-decorating party on Sunday (no pix, sorry, Carey couldn't find the camera battery), Greta's pal Jay hung around for dinner. We dragged her princess table into the kitchen and the kids ate like, well, civilized kids, for about 15 minutes. Ground beef, broccoli, grapes, blueberries and cottage cheese. Jay's first taste of the latter; he wasn't impressed. Regardless, they do look like young adults, don't they? When is the first college tuition payment due?

Saturday snapshots

A nice full day in your nation's capital. Little G only slept until 6, so we were all showered and ready to leave the house shortly after 7. Had a long breakfast at Brooklyn Bagels in Clarendon, then went to the commissary for the first shopping trip in a month. Mark McMahon eat your heart out: 14 bags for a little more than $130. We'll miss that benefit indeed.

After putting away the groceries, we hiked down to Old Town for the Scottish Christmas parade. Lots of men in skirts, lots of terriers, and Sen. John Warner, R-Va., shielding himself from the terrorists in an armored Humvee (in his "defense," the gentleman from Virginia was walking in front of the Humvee when we saw him, but it still seemed incongruous). Here are my two favorite pics of Greta watching the parade:



After the parade, we stopped at the Bittersweet Cafe, usually a less-than-satisfying culinary experience, but with all the crowds downtown, it was the closest place when Greta started howling for food. She thoroughly enjoyed her Mac & Cheese and Meatloaf, and as you can see, she tried a new utensil trick as well.

When we got home, Greta thoroughly dominated her playroom, exploring some areas she's never checked out before. I can't imagine it's too many pounds before she rips right through the fabric basket, but it's a cute photo for now.

One cool cat

I was lucky to get another early release on Friday. Came home to find Greta and Mommy in dancing mode. At one point she pulled the glasses off Mommy's face. After we told her Mommy needed those to see and they were fragile, she demanded her own glasses. Best we could find were some 6-month-old strawberry shades. At her age, she can pull it off.