Weekly Round-up (May 14-20)

Mama and Papa have told me I can't monopolize the computer so much, and that I'll have to limit my blogging to once a week. In fact, they haven't even let me near the thing for some time, so I have to sneak some catch-up to let you know what has been going on around here. In the week after Mother's Day, there were some exciting new things. On Saturday, I turned 1 month old! I spent the morning at a Beach Party surrounded by beautiful ladies (seriously--it's true), and in the afternoon I met my great-uncle Alec, who lives in Boston. He spent some time filling me in on the metaphysical imprinting of infant monotypes. He cracks me up. Earlier in the week I also broke important new gastronomical ground. I had my first meal in public, at an Indian restaurant with Mama and GrandmaLee. Mama even managed to eat her Mulligatawny soup while I slurped away at her special "home brew." A couple days later, using a funny looking machine, she put that same brew into a curious contraption I heard them call a "bottle." I happily slurped away at that too, nestled in Papa's lap. (The hospital nurses didn't call me a "little barracuda" for nothing.) In addition to these landmark advances in eating, this week I pulled Mama's hair for the first time (I plan to do a lot more of that as soon as I figure out how to better control these things called arms). Also, Mama and Papa finally got some video of how good I'm getting at holding my head up (check out the video--but beware: the camera crew forgot to turn on the mic, so there's no sound. Don't worry--I had a serious talk with them, so we shouldn't see such negligence again.) I can't imagine what she was thinking, but this week Mama tried to put me into a big blue bag--or shall I say, torture device--luckily she didn't leave me there long. Also, I forgot to mention a couple incidents of the past month. The arents-pay have put the ix-nay on publicizing details, but maybe the censors will let an oblique reference to an exploding iaper-day and to eaming-scray aked-nay on the kitchen oor-flay. I think I've already said too much.