Me: "I'm making fried eggs this morning"
Sylvie: "I want mine sprangled."

The longest amount of time spent with you is in the evening when I come home from work. You are usually in your most worn out state of the day. Still in good spirits, bunny ears on your head, sand in your fingers or paint on your hands. You've been creative and active and an explorer. You are happy to see me, and sometimes we have a meal together, other times not. I work pretty late for an office job, get home 7ish and usually I have, what I call, a lead curtain behind my eyes. A heaviness that pulls from behind my eyes - not to close the lids, but literally a tugging at the core of my exhaustion. I should go to bed sooner. I push through this and we have a bit of time to play before a bath, books and lights out.

You brought all your smurfs to the bath. There was a cheap fakey slinky too. You played it like an accordian and sang the "blue wagon" song in Russian. My parents have been teaching you Russian while you've stayed with them. I need to speak with you more in Russian, мая красавитса.

After the bath we read some books and turned the lights out. You were pretty tired. I gave you a little foot massage curled up at the bottom of the bed, while Mom lie with you. You were out in no time.

Tomorrow, you're flying to see Nani in DC. You help my face close to yours and squeezing me tight, you leaned in and gave me kiss and said, "I'm gonna miss you Papa."

Love you Sylvie. Safe travels.

You: "Papa, when I turn four I can wear that grey dress with those black shoes and I can fit in that dress that has a place for bosoms."

Me: "You won't get bosoms when you turn 4, it won't be for a long time."

You: "When I turn 8 will I get bosoms?"

Me: "No...I don't think so, probably not. Nothing you need to worry about now. You have a long time before you have to deal with bosoms."

"Big Bird died today and went to another planet."

You've been into Sesame Street lately. A few books from the '70s we picked up at rummage sales got you into it. That and the renewed interest in the original Sesame Street DVDs. I've been trying to do all the voices for each character. You seem to really enjoy it and it makes me too happy to see you grin like that.

Last night we celebrated your Mom's 33rd birthday a day early. I came home from work to a nice southern feast of fried chicken livers, whipped potatoes, creamed corn, and grilled vegetables. You made a cake with Nani and Mom, and they said you really helped them well. Poppitia came too and ate with us. It's always nice for Jessica to see her parents together, it happens so rarely.

That night as you lay in bed, restless in your sleep from eating too much icing, you were talking to Mom. All the balloons for Mom's birthday instantly became yours and you had them all floating and dancing on your bedroom ceiling. You held the string to the biggest, shiniest one in your hand as you lay on your back.
"Where's Papa?" you asked.
"He's in the office, probably," Mom answered.
"Where's his office?"
"Well, actually he's probably in the den," she re-thought.
"Where's Nani?" you asked.
"She's probably in the den, too. It's nice and cool in there," Mom answered.
"What are they doing in the den?

long pause

"....Are they watching cartoons?"

Mom smiled.
"We wouldn't watch cartoons without you, sweetheart. They're probably watching some grown-up news stuff." You nodded your head in satisfied agreement.

Hey Bubsy,

I turn 35 today. Zorik says it's my "Coral Birthday", whatever that means. It's a big deal to them, but then again, every birthday is. Mom thinks they just say that to hijack my birthday.We plan on going over to Toma & Zorik's this afternoon for a mini-feast. Pork Brats, Xachapuri and some veggies.

I took you to summer camp this morning - you woke up with a slight fever. You were so sweet and cooperative. I got sunscreen all over your little body and you got a tight ponytail from Mom, which is rare. You can't take anything in your hair for more than 5 min. We'll see if it's still there when we pick you up. I made you a lunch too, with your 1st juice box. You caught a peek of it while I was putting it in the bag and you said, "What's that colorful thing? Is that a juice box?" Nothing gets by you.

Little Bubs. You are my sweet. Sometimes during the day I get a thought about you in my head - I think about our lives. I think about the way they are so short and fleeting. I see my parents and their place in time - your place in time. It makes me tear up.

That is why, in a way, I decided to start this blog. I want to be able to talk to you and get my thoughts out. Something we can share, even when I'm gone. Because one day we'll all be gone, and that's not a sad thing - it's a wonderful thing that we even got to share one little moment. This life is wonderful and terrible all at the same time. And every day I am trying to focus on the task at hand - the immediate thing that I can crunch up and chew up and swallow. Even at thirty-five, I am still learning what it is all about. I see glimpses of clarity every day. I add them up. I kiss you on the middle of your back - it's the softest sweetest spot I know in the world.