Saturday, October 12, 2002


Sage is oddly having trouble falling asleep. She's active, crawling around, playing with her toys, but when it's time to sleep, she begins to wail. Nikki thinks it because she's rebelling against the very notion of sleepiness and fatigue, wanting to play forever (she is definitely my daughter, to rage and burn against the human condition so early in life).

And indeed, Sage is a whirling dervish.

When she’s playing on her alphabet mat on the floor and she sees you, before you know it she’s suddenly next to you, having traversed the floor with breathtaking speed, hands and knees in not-so-perfect accord. I don't know what to do about the Christmas tree come December. We plan to have one for her to see, but will she pull it all down? I can picture her sitting delighted amid the ruins of the tree, candy canes and ornaments around her.

She’s taken a liking for taho (soy bean curd) and grimaces at the taste of lychee flan – but asks for more. Her adventures into the realm of taste has begun in force.

She’s also completely outgrown her baby bathtub, and Nikki has started to give her bath in the bathroom. This is a good thing because she will eventually have to learn to use he bathroom (after all, all women spend approximately half their lives in one, regardless of locale), and we certainly can’t lug around a new bathtub on our trip two weeks from now.

I love watching her grow up, in time-lapse photography whose speed is measured in heartbeats.


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