Friday, September 28, 2007


Over the weekend we attended an event with a self-proclaimed "Balloon Buffoon." Buffoon or not, he knew exactly how to read The Wog, and set out to make her a beautiful crown in shades of pink and purple. She was seriously without words. (To boot, he topped it off with a heart-shaped balloon adorned with a sketch of a kitty cat, but it did not survive being dragged across the grass.) The Wog was so tired on the way home and fell asleep during the five minute drive home; this is becoming less and less common as she becomes more of a big girl and less of a toddler. She can resist the lull of the car; The Doodle, as evidenced by the reflective mirror, cannot.

The following day we took a leisurely, scenic ride on hunt for upholstery fabric and changing leaves. The Wog was not feeling 100%; we stopped for her and her father to share a granola bar, and I took these pictures through the windshield. What they lack in quality they make up for in heart.


The Wog's ballet attire came in the mail today, and she insisted on wearing it immediately. She shunned the brown long-sleeved leotard (I should have known better) but loved the black one's ruffly sleeves--not enough, however, to prevent her from requesting a pink leotard instead.

Ballet class begins two weeks from today, and The Wog is beside herself with excitement. Last weekend we ran into an aquaintance at the coffee shop who asked what we were up to that day; The Wog enthusiastically responded, "I'm going to the ballet!" At least once a day she asks me, "Can we go to the ballet? Can we? Can we?" Two weeks from today, we can!

Wednesday, September 26, 2007



A few weeks ago, I was in the kitchen attempting to unload the dishwasher, The Doodle was asleep (or so I thought) in his carseat in the den, and The Wog was merrily shuttling back and forth between both locations. Their father came home, went into the den, and was greeted by the following scene:

This picture reminds me of the "What's Wrong with this Picture?" illustration that used to grace (and maybe still does?) the backcover of Highlights Magazine. So far I've found the following:
1. The Doodle is on the floor.
2. Despite having apparently been ejected from his overturned carseat, The Doodle is smiling.
3. The Wog, age nearly 3, is wearing a party dress in the 12-18 month size.
4. The cord to the vacuum cleaner lies precariously within The Doodle's reach. (Yes, we actually own a vacuum cleaner, though you couldn't tell by this picture.)
5. The Wog's shoes appear to be on the wrong feet.
6. The Wog has only one pigtail.
7. There is an overturned cup of yogurt on the floor.

If you find anymore to add to the list (and I'm sure there are plenty that I'm blind to by now), drop me a line.

I initially decided against displaying the photo on The Wog Blog for fear of Child Protective Services knocking down my door. Since that time, it has become one of my favorite pictures (and even my screensaver!) because it perfectly captures what life can be like in our household these days. It airs our dirty laundry quite literally (there it is on the coffee table) but also reminds me that it's this very disorder that both clutters and colors our lives.


Bathing suit? Check!
Tutu? Check!
Pink sparkly ballet flats? Check!

And The Wog is good to go!

The Wog is not happy unless she is wearing one of her pink bathing suits. She wakes up in the morning and the first thing we hear over the monitor is, "I wanna wear my pink bathing suit!" (Sadly, she's stopped calling it her "swimming soup.") She wants to wear it to school. She wants to sleep in it. She does not understand if it's in the laundry or otherwise MIA. Life has become a non-stop bargaining session over if and when she can wear the suit. As in, "If you put these pants on now and leave them on (otherwise she strips them off the first chance she gets) and go to school, you can put your bathing suit on as soon as we get home." And she never forgets that promise, either. However, I anticipate that when her ballet attire arrives in the mail later this week, the bathing suits might finally get a much-needed break.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Friday, September 21, 2007


The relationship between The Wog and The Doodle might best be described as one of mutual adoration. From what I understand, that might change as soon as he is big enough to handle her toys, but for now they are true amigos. In fact, I asked her the other day to name her best friend (expecting to hear Chloe or Jett or Lily or one of her new schoolmates), and her emphatic answer was, "Baby Doodle."

Wednesday, September 19, 2007


I unpacked The Wog's carseat cover yesterday, and she got a kick out of playing peek-a-Doodle.




The weather here is below freezing in the morning but warms up to the mid-70s by mid-day. Since the children begin and end the day on the playground at school, I've found that dressing The Wog in layers on layers on layers is the way to go, and each item must be easily removable by little Wog hands--both because she prefers to be in the minimal amount of clothes while inside and because it's easiest for managing her trips to the bathroom. So in short: this is why The Wog is dressed like one of the orphins in the touring cast of Annie.

The Wog has learned to make lots of funny faces since she started preschool. (She has also learned to use a shoehorn, but that's neither here nor there.)

We attended two barbecues over the weekend and The Wog got to hang out with one of her very favorite people, Daddy's coworker, Naveen (or "Veen" as she calls him).

Thursday, September 13, 2007


The Wog Blog has been light on The Doodle since The Wog started school. Here's what he's been up to lately:

Being sweet...

...hanging out in his Bumbo...

....and facing off with his Build-A-Bear:

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


When I unpacked The Wog's lunch today, there was a short note inside. It read:

"Polly is happy at school. She is busy and doesn't need any help picking work. She is learning the school routine. We are helping her to put her work away before she chooses something else. She walks around telling everyone she is a princess."

I've decided that this correspondence is written in preschool code and translates to the following:

"Polly is happy doing whatever she wants at school. She loves taking all the toys out but never puts any away. She walks around telling everyone she is a princess." (Notice that the last line remains the same.)

And here are some pictures of Princess Wog heading off this morning:

I love the progression of this scowl:

And a close-up.

(Clearly, the Princess was displeased.)

Tuesday, September 11, 2007


They say Day Two is the telling one, and The Wog eagerly headed back for more today. We're going for a three-fer of successful school days tomorrow, and I don't anticipate any issues. But The Wog likes to keep us on our toes.

I lamented to The Wog's father yesterday morning after dropping her off that this is the beginning of The Wog's "private life" from us. Her mornings are now spent doing new and exciting things that are a mystery to me; I know little about the day's activities and will not know much more beyond what she or the teachers tell me.

A small example: I spent the drive home from school yesterday trying to determine what the day's shared snack basket was at school that day. The Wog insisted it was "noodles," which was actually her lunch--either she didn't want to share that particular information with me or she wasn't recalling it but it was something I might never had known (had I already happened to know it was grapes, as the teacher had informed me that The Wog sought more than her share). At drop-off this morning I was talking to The Wog's friend's mother, whose daughter had told her the day's snack was broccoli (vile weed!); having nothing beyond that to go on, she believed her child--as I would have believed The Wog.

Here she is, heading off to school today:

And modeling her backpack. (She is very proud of the heart.):

The Wog has always sought her independence, and now she is fully exercising it...and loving every minute of it. But lucky for me, she still appreciates a good post-nap snuggle.

Monday, September 10, 2007


Today was The Wog's first day of nursery school, and she handled it like an old-timer. I dropped her off at the door where she was greeted and escorted inside by one of her teachers; she never looked back.

Pick-up was at 1:00 on the playground behind the school; parents are encouraged to come early to socialize with the kids and other parents. I was the first one to arrive (new parent nerves--I obviously was not as well-adjusted about this whole thing as The Wog), and so I had the chance to hear the teachers' comments to the other parents as they arrived: things like "She's so good!" and "He's so easygoing!" So what did the teachers have to say about The Wog? "She's HYSTERICAL!" and "She's so funny!" Not quite sure whether this was a good or bad thing, I pressed the issue. Apparently The Wog is "such a girl" who "tells you exactly what she wants" and is "full of stories." She also will "hey" you until she gets your attention...even if she wants your attention just to wave and say "hi." So we're working on "excuse me" and also on waiting our turn. When it was time to go, I had to drag her off the playground, and she has asked me about ten times already this afternoon if we can go back.

Here are some pictures we took this morning on our way out the door:

It was very important to The Wog (despite her obvious love of the limelight) that The Doodle have his picture taken, too:

Our big girl: