That pig has a big, big bottom

Said Iris.

Put a lid on

After steadfastly refusing to wear any sort of hat, no matter what the temperature, for 18 months, Iris embraced headgear with relish. Her hat of choice is one we found on the corner of 42nd and Pine, put on a fencepost so the owner could easily find it, and then decided to take when it was still there days later.

She wore it while sleeping (note also the shoes tightly clutched in her hands):


(That's a tape measure under her arm she was taking to bed for a while.)


If the favored hat could not be found, others would suffice.



As the weather grew cooler, she moved on to other idioms:


Celebrating Obama's victory:


We are still trying to find a picture of her from my museum opening where she is seated next to the extremely esteemed former director of the British Museum (he has his own wikipedia entry!), with her hat jammed over her face because she didn't want to talk to him.

In the spirit of giving, and receiving

A short series of Iris enjoying things people have given her:

Her barbeque (the party got a little carried away):


Her carseat (and her Spartan socks):


Her Christmas crown and sushi set:


My Christmas scarf:


Her dollhouse and doll families:



This is the face Iris makes when you ask her to smile:


And her Christmas dress and necklace:

Say cheese

Well, having finally located the camera cable after the Great Move of 2008, I find we have taken 448 pictures since the end of July. Somehow this seems excessive. But then I discover there are 19 pictures alone of Iris eating an entire slab of parmesan.

Obsession, part II

Iris continues to ask to nurse, despite having been cut off from that particular tap for some time now. I decided to try a new tack, explaining to her that only babies nurse and that she is a big girl. She seemed somewhat interested in this line of reasoning, so I decided to push it further and suggest that she could nurse her babies. Iris is a very solicitous, if physically somewhat careless, mama to her dolls: she generously offers them drinks from the favored yellow cup, but will then fling them again and again into their bed until sheer force arranges their tiny limbs into the configuration she has in mind. So she considered my suggestion, hopped off the sofa, and trotted back with this:


which she then very tenderly stuffed down my shirt.

The obsession continues

We've been trying to teach Iris about stop lights, the classic lessons about green meaning go, red meaning stop. Helpful information to an urban child. She has taken to this with great gusto, which is why I found myself out on the corner at 5:15 this morning with Iris, watching the lights change. As soon as the light became green, she'd start "Yellow coming? Yellow coming? Yellow coming?" the entire time the light was green. Red, for some reason, she can wait out.

Here's Iris enjoying a bedtime story:


And exclaiming with joy because it featured an elephant:

New kitchen

Reference pictures for Jo and John. Not for everyone (unless you're really interested in what W. Phila kitchens looked like c.1960).

Floor plan:


"Summer" kitchen:



EIK:

Looking north, toward the dining room. You can see the built-in cabinets to the sides (wood doors).


Windows, facing east. Radiator also on this wall.


Door to the summer kitchen. The windows are now to your left. Facing south.


Fridge, next to door to summer kitchen.


If we remove the baseboard, would there be enough room to scoot the fridge over and build a box for it? See above photo showing current relationship of fridge to molding.


Skipping the bathroom door (next to the fridge), the first in the series of built-in cabinets on the west wall.


These built-in cabinets angle towards the basement door.


Now facing north again. Built-in hutch.


Bonus pictures - the deck of baby death! Yes, that's plain old metal pipe.