This month is all about climbing stairs. We lived in an apartment on a second floor back then, and E quickly mastered the stairs — at first on all fours, then on two feet.
This is also a time when E was on the way to mastering feeding herself with a spoon. Or at least it would seem like she mastered it — until she took a bowl of pureed carrots and put it upside-down on her head like a yarmulke.
E climbs the stairs to the second floor of our apartment complex, on all fours.
E climbs down the stairs a few days later — this time on two feet, holding on to the handrails.
On the splash day at the daycare center, toddlers get to run through the sprinklers. E cautiously opened the gate into the sprinkler area, looked around with suspicion, but didn’t go in.
On one of our walks around the apartment complex, E saw a black cat lounging on the ground, and tried to touch it. The cat got up, walked nonchalantly past the toddler, who made clumsy attempts to grab it, and sauntered off. E ran after it, but was no match for the cat’s speed.
Another encounter with a cat a month later, in September of 2006. A much friendlier cat this time. She did not object when E tried to point to its nose. At the time E was fascinated with everybody’s and everything’s noses — yes, “everything’s”, too. She was pointing out “noses” even on inanimate objects, for example, on a vacuum cleaner. She pointed to some small part of the vacuum cleaner that was sticking out, and said “nunu nose!”. “Nunu” is a word for vacuum cleaner that, I think, first appeared on Teletubbies. We didn’t watch television and didn’t let E watch it, but this pop-cultural tidbit somehow permeated the bubble of our household.
So anyway, if someone or something in possession of a nose came within arm’s length of E, she would point out their nose to them. The same thing happened to this cat, which we encountered on a walk around the apartment complex. The cat took it really well. She indulged E.
The cat almost let E grab its tail.
Eventually, the cat allowed E to touch its ears.