Welcome, Miss Anne-Marie

January in Chicago could only mean one thing. My parents are starting to recycle activities in the name of avoiding the ugly truth about how cold it is outside.

I started Wiggle Worms again this weekend. Unfortunately, Mr. Jarrod isn't leading this session but Miss Anne-Marie is pretty great. One of the moms travels all the way from Bucktown just to get her kid in a class with her. So, I definitely feel like I'm a part of something big.

Thankfully, the group is 12 to 24 months - none of those babies I have to see every day at the learning center. The group seems pretty solid. Although, I have my eye on Raquel and her mom (she has a Louis Vuitton diaper bag) as my biggest competition in the room. A dress and tights at Wiggle Worms? Game on, Raquel. Game on.

A very big day, indeed

One year ago today, my mom confused the formula out of me. After twelve weeks of cuddling and enjoying Billy Bush together, she loaded me up in my car seat, brought me to a strange building, told some woman I didn't know something about tummy time and weepily made a beeline for the door. When she picked me up eight hours later, I was so disoriented, angry and exhausted that I didn't even look at her for the rest of the night. I went straight to bed. She made me do the whole thing again the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. All the way up until today.

For the record, I still miss spending my mornings with this guy.

After the first week, my mom stopped crying and I was less exhausted at the end of the day. We both started acting like ourselves again. I started making friends and she started bring home a paycheck. (About time, deadbeat. Way to get credit for doing something you should have been doing all along.) In time, I really started enjoying my Bear time. It has been good to have something just for myself.

I thought my parents would want some time to themselves
but they're always around.

Today, I celebrate my one year anniversary at the learning center with a special announcement. My transition date has been scheduled. I will begin to move from the ranks of Miss Erica to Miss Susan on Monday.

Since I've been knocking on the door and trying to sneak into the toddler room for a couple of weeks, now, Miss Susan believes that I am ready and everything will go smoothly. Miss Erica is less optimistic and keeps telling my mom that it will probably take two full weeks since I like my routine. Blah blah blah.

Honestly, I think Miss Erica is just nervous that she won't be able to handle the infant room without me. Have you seen the latest line up? Sure, Amelia and Emily are most adorbs but Ethan only knows how to sit in a Bumbo seat, you know my feelings on Annabelle and Blake and Ryan are still completely interchangeable. No wonder Miss Erica told my mom I have "the most personality of any of the babies."

Good luck without me in February, Miss Erica. You're going to need it.

Coolio hasn't looked this good since 1995

Methinks Miss Alessandra could use a new hobby. Maybe one that isn't in the cosmetological arts.


I know you're bored and I'm the only infant with hair
but this is getting ridiculous.  

Adding insult to injury - taking it out didn't seem to help much.

There's no place like home / Happy New Year

I've been away for the holidays and I can't say it enough - it is so good to be home. My distant family and friends are great and everything but there's nothing like throwing a tantrum in your own living room.

Travel can be a lot of fun but it's nice to be off the road for awhile.

There were some kids around during my vacation but very few of them understood that I am an only child and, therefore, the boss of any room, celebration, grocery store, etc. that I decide to grace with an appearance. This made it more difficult to get everything I wanted at every moment but I did the best I could with the attention and toys that I got.

My second cousin Grant is a second child.
He's doomed to be bossed around by the likes of me for the rest of his childhood.

Needless to say, it is great to be back at the learning center for the New Year. 2013 is going to be huge!

This is the year I will move to the toddler room. This is the year I will play in the snow for the first time. This is the year I will turn two. (I'm already planning my next birthday party. I have my eye on a donkey piñata.) This is the year I will be allowed screen time. This is the year I stop wearing onesies and start wearing t-shirts.

This is the Year of the Bear

Holiday pageant? I'll pass. Thanks anyway.

Last night, the learning center's two year olds classroom presented the annual holiday pageant. At 5:30, the seats were set up in neat rows so that parents and grandparents alike could enjoy the show. The two year olds changed into their finery in hopes that no one would notice the Pull-ups lines under their outfits. The lights were dimmed. A chorus of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer filled the room. At the end of the evening, teachers from all of the classrooms were handed cards filled with cash in appreciation of all of their hard work this year.

Or so I'm told.

I woke up excited for the event yesterday morning. I wore my third tier holiday outfit, so as not to get finger paint or spaghetti on my dress for more important upcoming events. I styled my hair a little differently for the special occasion. Annabelle and I babbled about attending the production all day. My dad left work early so that he could meet my mom and we could all watch the show together.

If you think I looked cute yesterday,
you should see the first and second tier ensembles

When the time came, though, I just wasn't feeling it. I was sleepy. I had a dirty diaper. There was something crusty and ectoplasm green in my special hairdo. I wanted food, a bath and my bed and to be completely honest, getting those things didn't put me in a much more pleasant mood.

I once received the advice that unless I'm delighted to be somewhere, I shouldn't go. I always want to present my best self and since I couldn't do that last night, I guess I'll have to wait until next year to hear what Rudolph does at the end of the song to get revenge on the reindeer who called him names.

Happy birthday, Annabelle

Dear Annabelle,

Happy first birthday. You're still bald and you can't walk. What's the point?

All the best,

The Bear

Orange striped top, navy and white polka dot pants

When Miss Erica sends a note home saying you need more backup pants in your cubbie, she isn't messing around.