Hola, amigos. It’s me. Emma. May I vent? (Sorry. Didn’t mean to shock you. Let it settle in for a moment.)
Hello, America. It’s me. Emma. Writing to you from one of the polar ice caps. By which I mean, New England. Where it now snows. ALL. WINTER.
We’re all thinking it, America. So let’s just say it: WTF?
Hello, America. It’s me again. Sorry it has been so long. I will try to do better. But no time to waste with apologies. I know you forgive me. (Thanks, America. Kiss, kiss.) Down to the business at hand.
Seriously, Mommy? You could not find a SINGLE thing to write about in the past MONTH? What about that adorable thing I do when I have half a bowl of cereal left in front of me and I cock my head and say, “Mo’ cereal, Mommy?” (Hey, some of us still have a Depression-era mentality. What if the cereal runs out? Don’t give me that look, woman. I’ve seen the way you shovel this stuff down your throat.) And how about when I’m playing hide-and-seek and as soon as I hear you coming I jump out of my hiding spot and yell, “TA-DA!” . . .? And don’t you think America needs to know that I can now count to ten in Spanish?!? (English, not so much.) AND. WHAT. ABOUT. THE. FACT. THAT. I. NOW. HAVE. VISIBLE. HAIR?!?
Mommy has been delinquent in writing her blog. AGAIN. But don’t worry, America. The Emma is here to update you. And WOAH, NELLY do I have an update.
Jacob says we’re getting a horse. No seriously. A REAL horse. He told, Mommy.
It’s the last week before the school year starts here. So, naturally, everything is shut down. As I like to call it: forced vacation. No summer camps. No preschool. No daycare. Nothing to do but take time off. And spend it at home. With the kids. Which wouldn’t be a big deal. Except that- oh yeah, we just took vacation TWO WEEKS AGO. I’m still catching up from that. So, Dan and I decided to alternate days. One of us goes to work while the other stays home with the kids. Then the next day we swap.
Hello, Emmafans. Me again. I know, I know. You’re wondering whether Mommy is EVER going to actually write her own blog. (One word for you Mommy: RESPONSIBILITY. But I disgress . . .) As you can see, I’m guest posting. Again.
I mentioned in my last blog entry that I desperately needed a vacation. Well, America, you’ll be happy to know: I got one. My Bubbe rented a big house for me, my family, my aunties and uncles and my four big girl cousins. It was a few hours and one car nap away from here. We stayed there for a week. People: It. Was. Heaven. Every time I turned around, there was someone to shower me with affection. And teach me a new hand gesture. But don’t get too excited: I’m not talking about the really good kind that you get to use when someone cuts you off in traffic. (Yes, Mommy, I can see from the back seat.) I’ll be honest, America. That part was a bit disappointing.
Brace yourself, people. MAJOR update. Mommy and I had a talk. About how I am CLEARLY the most highly evolved member of our family. I think that’s what she meant anyway. Her exact words were, “Oh, Emma. You are such a cutie patootie.” (Sometimes you have to read between the lines with Mommy . . . and overlook the rather undignified questions about what might be in my diaper. But I digress . . .) We agreed. I should play a bigger role in “her” blog.
Jacob has a girlfriend. I think.
Or rather, his camp counselors think so.
Mommy tells me that this week marks the one year anniversary of when she began exposing the seedy underbelly of our family. I mean “blogging”. (TO-MAY-TO, TO-MAH-TO.) Wow. One year. Or as I like to call it: HALF OF MY LIFE.