Hey, electrons don't weigh much and the postage is nil, so why not a website... ? At least that way they can send e-mail badgering me to update the page, and I can always say my ISP ate the mail, sorry.
It's amazing what a good babysitter can do, working on things and reinforcing cute behaviour. The little publicity hound, being the only local red-headed baby, has a whole bag of tricks to wow the audiences at will. This is her patented response to "How old are you?" in both Japanese and English.
If that isn't enough, she can try Inai-inai-bah! (peek-a-boo), or the total show-stopper, the very formal "Domo-Domo" bow. Rocks 'em in the aisles. Leave 'em laughing.
Ask Yuko Terai-san, our babysitter, for the latest Mika report.
Mika is sucking in Japanese culture like apple juice via children's TV programs. She dances and has all the moves down for the "Atama? Onaka? Oshiri?" song (head, stomach, buttocks). Hey, don't laugh, I saw everybody in the U.S. on TV doing something called the Macarena, and they couldn't claim infancy, either.
Lots! Loves it, won't stop, she simply must do it several times a day. At 14 months, she knew how to turn on the stereo, start the CD, and crank it up. Rock and roll, great beat. Soon enough she'll figure out this is old-fuddy-duddy daddy's favorite music, the genetically programmed rebellious streak will erupt and then it will be years of listening to some dreadful ick oozing out of todays radios (I said I was a fuddy-duddy, right? I already found the best music, sheesh). In time, Mika will consider theseclassics from her youth, just to complete some weird human cycle of young bulls or bullettes kicking up their heels 'cause their parents said "NO".
Till then, I get to pick the CD's, she isn't tall enough for THAT yet (but do watch your things on the table, she has a wicked overhand reach that can bring down soup bowls and other interesting items, and yes, that's why there is plastic on the floor. She flings things, too, how CHARMingly demonstrative she is, so dramatic. Please pass the napkins, hmm, perhaps a spatula as well, dear).
Nah Nah NAH Ni nah NI nah NAH NAH NAH...
Yes, give yourself 10 points, "It's a small, small, world..." She plays it over and over and over again. In fact, one day while innocently videotaping her on her Disney(TM) toy car, I caught her kicked back with both feet up, rocking side-to-side to the beat, mashing the dickens out of the little button that --you guessed it-- regurgitates THAT SONG again, and guess what? Kerplooey, O-shiri meets the floor, it's a buttdown! Yay! Serves her right, too, the song isn't that good, take it from me! (no damage done, not far to fall) If you need a refresher on just how that song goes, give me a buzz, it is the "HOLD" music on our telephone, too. Hang on as long as you like, it's your phone bill.
You can't imagine how lucky you are that so many instances of that song are exported, you might be driven bonkers if they stacked up around your house in toys, with batteries and buttons accessible by one for whom the thrill has not yet worn off... On a brighter note, the terrible twos are coming soon, maybe, just maybe, she will see fit to destroy a few of those toys... with a little hint here and a handoff there, a cheerful wink and a nudge as another one bites the dust, perhaps?
June 1, 1997
C. 1997, Kevin Sullivan, csr-kts@gol.com
Base URL: http://www2.gol.com/users/csr-kts