Genevieve and I played in F.A.O. Schwartz for over two hours. The first stuffed animal she hugged to her chest was a brown shaggy thing called an Ugly Doll. It had two removable Velcro kidneys. Next was a Peek-a-Boo baby doll wearing a duck suit, then a moment later, a Peek-a-Boo baby doll, Pistachio, wearing a hippo suit.
She hugged at least half a dozen bunnies, two tigers, a handful of teddy bears and a small ottoman. She rode a fuzzy rocking airplane and duck, crawled along a $250,000 life-size piano, which she drooled upon, and wiped up a few hallways of the store with her roughed-up pink knees.
We then met up with Nick, rode the subway home together and rented some videos. We watched “Sideways” tonight. This is the kind of film I like—character driven, realistic and very funny in that uncomfortable, you feel for the person way.
Genevieve is really progressing with her eating and speaking talents. She seems to be clearly saying, “More”, when she wants, well, more. And she ate corn niblets off of an adult fork, all on her own. I wish I could get that excited when I speak single-syllable words and correctly aim an eating utensil into my mouth.
I guess I could. I mean, there’s nothing stopping me. Except my own, what should I call it? My own adult and reasonable self. Why must I be so reasonable?
Why can’t I just cut loose and find joy in the word “more”?