Yo my peeps. Jojo here. My parents are always trying to sleep, so now that I can crawl like the dickens, as well as operate a chef's knife and post to my own blog, I've decided to take matters into my own hands. Mom, you realize this blog ain't gonna update itself, do you?
Anyway without a doubt the biggest adventure I've had in the last month or so is that I traveled to the ancestral Kasa des Kasenters (aka the Rudert Farm) where there are wild turkies roaming the grounds, and even wilder parties with the distanter relatives (and friends, neighbors, random passers-by) coming to pay fealty to the moi. And at least my very cool GRANDPARENTS, if not my parents, understand my insatiable need for bevies - nay, veritable clouds - of toys, including a
car, an outdoor swing of my own (not that I mind sharing on the playground, but it's good to have both!) a wicker stroller from the 19th Century (is that when the dinosaurs roamed?) and lots of books and bloomers. Plus I got to meet my great grandmother Loretta, who was very nice and did not object when I grew mesmerized with her nose and would not let go of it, and Uncle Ken and Aunt Diane, who were silly, which is good, and Aunt Lori and Uncle Tom, who were also silly, but they also had an iPhone. Whose batteries died after a few minutes of being in my presence. (I do mind control, you see, and if I don't get an iPhone,
no one gets an iPhone.)
The other adventure I had was chillin' with the Ladies of the Bout! Well, lemme tell ya, they are a cool bunch, too, though we only had time for lunch, chit-chat and shopping! They were in town to rescue up Aunt Phoebe from camp - I guess it was the kind of camp where they teach you to concentrate or something. Grammy J bought us all crepes, which of course babies adore, and Aunt Tessa was there to Keep It All Real, and we wandered along in the city catching up best we could, but all in all it was
too short. Come back, ladies! And bring your menfolk, too!
My other new hobby (besides crawling, crusing, yelping with glee, and singing [yes, I sing now!]) is surfing. I am unusual surfer in that don't actually get in the water; rather, I mind-control the surfers already in the water and cause them to wipe out when they get too cocky. Jack Halverson knows my skill best, as I have observed him on several occasions this last month, when the parents have dragged me down to the Resort on the Rockaways, where Jack and Caroline have feted me with much aplomb from the serene confines of their beach side home. We should go more often because it's too fun, but my parents insist on taking the bus.
Other than that, you know, just chillin' in NYC - hanging in Central Park, indulging Dad his fearsome fetish for the public library, eatin' peas (to the exclusion of most other things). I have this game where I play like I'm getting more teeth - everyone starts getting excited and letting me get away with stuff - and then I don't get them. That's fun. I have this other game, too, where I chase the cat - he's pretty slow and old, so it's easy to do, and also I'm officially smarter than him now, given my ability to understand the fine art of Understanding Someone's Finger When It Is Pointing Something Cool At You.
Feel free to phone in with more questions. Jojo out.
car, an outdoor swing of my own (not that I mind sharing on the playground, but it's good to have both!) a wicker stroller from the 19th Century (is that when the dinosaurs roamed?) and lots of books and bloomers. Plus I got to meet my great grandmother Loretta, who was very nice and did not object when I grew mesmerized with her nose and would not let go of it, and Uncle Ken and Aunt Diane, who were silly, which is good, and Aunt Lori and Uncle Tom, who were also silly, but they also had an iPhone. Whose batteries died after a few minutes of being in my presence. (I do mind control, you see, and if I don't get an iPhone, no one gets an iPhone.) 