the 90th minute

Until September 2007, when my oldest daughter was born, this blog covered daily life and politics in Israel, as well as Hebrew-English linguistic issues, from the perspective of an American-raised journalist and translator living in Israel. Now it mostly serves as the SmunchMonk&Bear news agency, a portal into the bizarre universe of the little people. Read more at: www.shoshanakordova.com.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Squiggly pasta for a squiggly squirmer

Pasta (the squiggly kind) was on the menu yesterday and today. The most interesting places I have found it so far (aside from smushed into a gross, slippery paste under my foot) are:

The precisely squiggly-pasta-shaped space (who knew?) at the top of the broom handle (RP really enjoys what we may as well, for lack of a better word, call sweeping), and in the toe of her slipper (which was, in turn, safely stored - along with one sock - in a disposable plastic container that had been used for chocolate chip cookies, and which RP must have discovered while impersonating a raccoon in the kitchen garbage can).

In other news, Rimonit likes to say hello (well, actually, "Aya!") into her toy phone. She also sometimes holds her hand up to her ear and cheerfully shouts "Aya! Aya!" Of course, when she encounters an actual phone at her ear, she smiles toward the voice but is remarkably silent.

She has also found original ways of escaping from her stroller. Though we buckle her in when we're going outside, we didn't bother with the buckles when we tried to get her to fall asleep in her stroller while we were eating Friday night dinner at someone's apartment the other week. (She often falls asleep in her stroller, she was tired, and it was way past her bedtime.) Our stroller can lie flat, but when in this position, it leaves a gaping hole in the back, where the kid's head is (the gap is supposed to be covered with a plastic flap).

The first time we tried putting her down, she pushed aside the blanket we had put over the hole and stuck her head out of the stroller with a huge, mischievous grin that is still making me laugh two weeks later. The second time (also the last one until we left, at which point she fell asleep in about 30 seconds), she turned onto her stomach and slithered out from the front end of the stroller, using the same motion as when she clambers off, say, the coffee table, and stood up with a proud, "Look at me!" smile. Then she scampered off to wreak some more havoc.

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