"...because, after all, a person's a person, no matter how small."

If you recognize that the title of this blog is from Horton Hears a Who, maybe you can come over and tutor us. We're taking a crash course in all things Seuss, gearing up for a family trip three hours north to watch Seussical, a musical based on several Seuss books, which our friend Daniela is starring in. The other day I was at the library by myself (!!!) checking out Seuss videos and books. The librarian commented. Perhaps he noticed from scanning my account that at home, I already had another two Seuss books and the soundtrack to Seussical. With no kids in tow, it must have seemed odd. Then again, they happily acquired, through interlibrary loan, a book entitled Growing Gourmet and Medicinal Mushrooms, for Jon, which he hasn't been able to put down (or stop talking about.) So I guess they are accustomed to unusual obsessions.

Of course, we had a few Seuss books already in our library, and have been reading those for years to Zephyr. Lightweights, like Hop on Pop and Green Eggs and Ham. Jon and I have been amazed at the deep issues addressed in several of titles from the library: The Butter Battle Book, Horton Hears a Who, and The Sneetches all show profound insight for dark human behavior. And if you're familiar with me and with The Lorax, you know that message is near and dear to my heart. I had mixed feelings regarding the sadness Zephyr felt upon completion of our first reading of The Lorax. On one hand, I was glad that he was sensitive enough to understand that something irrevocably ghastly happened there among the Truffula Trees. But he's three; shouldn't his heart be light? "Let's give this book away," he implored with wrinkled brow, after asking several "why" questions, some of which I couldn't answer, "It's a bad book." He has since asked for several repeated readings, and I'm glad the volume will remain on our shelf. Sometimes, we all need the reminder that "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

But now- an update on our own smallest person. This has been a huge developmental month for Jubilee. A month ago, she was able to make slow progress towards reaching a desired destination, which mostly consisted of scooting around inch-worm fashion, propelling herself through rocking on all fours. Now, she expertly follows us from room to room, performing the bonafide baby-classic cross-crawl. She would probably prefer that we install low-level ballet bars through the house, though, to enable her to cruise everywhere she wanted to go. She loves nothing more than to pull herself to a stand (the ottomans and the train table are her favorite hang-outs), scoot herself to the edge, and look for something else to grab onto. In a few weeks, she has progressed remarkably. We no longer have to hover quite so close; she isn't likely to tumble. She successfully bends down to retrieve dropped toys and carries them back up to her favorite perch. My beloved grandmother severely warned us that allowing her to stand so much at this age could only lead to bow-leggedness, but we're throwing caution to the wind, figuring if she shouldn't be standing, she wouldn't be.

She isn't experiencing solid foods exactly the way her older brother did. When I look back at his first year journal, I see that by this age he was eating several tablespoons of rice cereal for breakfast, followed by two ounces of fruits and veggies for lunch and dinner. Despite predictions that I wouldn't have the time, I have managed to make her baby food, just as I did for Zephyr, but I haven't figured out how to get her to eat it. Initially, she really enjoyed sweet potatoes and yellow squash, but now, beyond a few squeezed-in spoonfuls, she remains tight-lipped, batting away the approaching spoon. That's fine; I'd love to keep burning the calories necessary to produce the amount of breastmilk needed to sustain all 17+ pounds of baby love. The other day I bought her some organic oat "O" cereal, and although I haven't done the math yet, I think after subtracting the ones I find buried in her high chair and rolling on the floor, she has consumed a few. She also enjoys choking down water from a sippy cup.

She is starting to have opinions. Namely, "Mommy left the room. I don't like that!" and "You took something from me I want. Give it back!" She still loves watching Zephyr, and wants nothing more than to play with him. Zephyr lacks patience when she grabs at his toys, but he does like carrying her around (yikes) and explaining the world to her. Sometimes I wonder how much he understand about her limitations as a baby. Something he said a few weeks ago makes me think he might get it, "I'm a dinosaur, and you're a dinosaur, and Dada's a dinosaur, but Jubi's a little spiny dinosaur, so no one can eat her."