Jack is TWO!

Dear Quackers,

Happy birthday! You are two years old today.

Every year (ok, both years so far) as your birthday approaches, I think back to that awesome day when your mom and dad told us that they were going to have a baby. I know just where I was standing in the living room at your house, and just the way your dad laughed when I couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been more than two years since that day, but—just like I wrote to you last year—I don’t remember life without you. 

The funniest thing ever is watching you play the guitar. At first your eyes are wide open and then the minute your finger hits the strings, you screw your face up into a perfect mock grimace, and roll your head all around, just feeling the music. Then when you’re done, you open up your eyes and act all normal, as though you weren’t just channeling some long gone rock god.

You love music class and your teacher, Lenka. I have seen countless videos of you sitting on Lenka’s lap during a song. Always you, even though there are many other kids in the class. Lenka tells me that you two have a thing for each other. This much is evident. And the best part is that after you beeline for her and settle in, you stare at everyone else impassively and barely react to the actual song. But when it’s time to dance with scarves or other props, you bring out your finest moves.

I love when you come to our house for family dinner or any other visit. You bounce up and down and smile like crazy, wave your arms, laugh, and say hi in your throaty little voice. “Hi, Dout! Hi Ra Ra! Hi Rob!” It is impossible not to smile when you’re around. You are very independent and good at entertaining yourself, and you're not afraid to stick up for yourself if Scout is giving you a hard time. Sometimes the two of you just play quietly in her room with puzzles or books or cook together in the kitchen. 

You will still walk up to any strange man and raise your arms to be held. I’ve seen it again and again. I had a friend over recently, a guy you’ve never met before. You ran into my house for a visit, went straight past me and directly into his arms. Of course, he was utterly charmed. 

There is so much sweetness in you, always. But you are obviously a toddler, quite expressive and opinionated. You revel in telling us all NO, or giving us a withering look to show that you are the one in charge and we are tiresome. A quick game of peekaboo often has you smiling again.

You are really super coordinated and love to throw or kick a ball, and to ride your scooter. It's so much fun to see you run and jump, and to think about the very recent days when you couldn’t get both feet all the way off the ground. Now you can do so many things.

Sometimes you will climb up and ride around on my wheelchair with me. I hold you tight and we zoom around while you wave to everybody. And I sneak lots of kisses from your chubby cheeks, because you are my very favorite boy.

Love,

Ra Ra

Mustang Sally

Grandi Girl

Dear Scarlett,
Yesterday was your last day of school. You were in the Grandi class at La Scuola this year, the second year of preschool. In August, you will be in Grandissimi. We keep talking about "next year" at school, as though it isn't a mere two months away. And you will be attending two different camps this summer, two weeks at Children's Day School, where they have a little farm with chickens, and four weeks back at La Scuola, where they will focus on music, science, art and cooking.

When we said goodbye to the teachers at school, some of them were sad (Suela and Betta, specifically, because they won't be back next year.) Some of the parents were sad, too, since they feel like their kids are growing so fast. It's hard for us all to believe that you will be the big kids next year, when we still see you as our babies.

You have been cracking me up lately. Pops was here this week and he was determined to play catch with you, even though you have zero interest in that activity. We went to the park and you two tossed a tennis ball around for approximately 38 seconds, after which Pops came up to me and said, "Catch is over, because she's taken the ball over to those trees to find it some more magic powers." Yes, that sounds about right.

Even if catch is not your thing at the moment, you are a physical kid. You've started taking Hapkido classes, and I basically laugh the whole time as you and your squat little friends yell, "Yes sir! Thank you sir!" at your teacher, while wearing fabulous white uniforms.

You've also become quite the chef. Your specialty is spinach quiche, a recipe that you have adjusted slightly each time, not--I don't think--in an effort to improve the result, but because it is so much fun to crack eggs and add cheese to things (like your mouth.) Despite this culinary development, your favorite food still seems to be chicken nuggets. Or maybe it's ketchup, but either way, nuggets are involved.

You and I read James and the Giant Peach last month, which was really fun. I thought it might be kind of scary and/or boring for a 4-year-old, but we read 40+ pages at a time, and you never wanted to stop. We then read Henry and Ribsy, and we're overdue to get to the library for some more chapter books. Your love of books seems to equal your love of TV (Team Umizoomi and Octonauts) and movies (Frozen, Alice in Wonderland, Up, and Tinkerbell.)

It is your opinion that you should get to watch videos every day. Dad was in France all week, and we were so happy to see him when he got home yesterday afternoon. You hugged him tightly, then turned to me and said, "Time for videos?"

We've been in our new house for 4 months, and it is truly awesome. I love waking up here, love spending my days looking at the ocean and listening to music outside with you. The only problem is that we've had mosquitoes, and they have brutally attacked your cheeks in the night. I think we've figured out some solutions, but you might want to consider taking your face into the woods to get it some magic powers.

Love,
Mom

May Updates

Dear Scarlett,
Last weekend we were in Los Angeles to hear Uncle Rob's band ScreamCreature open for O.A.R at The Troubadour. It was amazing, and I wish that you could have been there to see your "Runcle" on stage in front of hundreds of people, rocking like the rockstar that he is. Instead you were at the hotel, trying to convince the babysitter that it was ok for you and Jack to watch a TV show. Dubious about your claims, she texted Shishie, who told her that no, it was not ok. NICE TRY.

We had a great time on our trip, going out for brunch and hanging poolside during the day. I was not a big fan of LA when I first traveled there for work, but when Rob and Shishie moved there, I started to like it a lot more. It was fun to be back, even for a quick trip, especially because the plane ride was so short and manageable. It was the first time I'd ever traveled with a wheelchair and I was a little nervous about how everything would work out. But it turns out that the airport people are way better at handling a woman in a wheelchair than they ever were at figuring out how to deal with me and my walker. Sometimes they treated me like they thought I was practicing for a part in a play instead of actually struggling with mobility. So it ended up being a very successful trip on all counts, as I'm sure you agreed from your window seat, where you watched Dora and ate snacks.

This month you started taking a martial arts class called Hapkido with a group of boys from your class. "Is me going to be the only girl again?" you asked yesterday as we rolled from school down the street to the studio. You've become very aware of dynamics like this, and have been refusing to get in the pool at swim class, because the other girls haven't been showing up, leaving you the only swimmer. This bothers you immensely, my little social butterfly.

Hanging out with my friend Sarah last night, I had an epiphany that someday you're going to need to write a memoir to try to work out everything you went through with your sick mom who shared a ton of personal information about you on the Internet. And that memoir will be called "Watch Out for the Wine Glass." It's not the sentence you necessarily hear the most in our house (I'm thinking "I love you" or "Why aren't you wearing pants" are uttered at slightly higher frequency), but I'd be lying if I said you didn't hear that one quite a bit. So, there you go. I've titled your memoir. Be kind to me in it.

I love you,
Mom

School Days

London Bridge

Dear Scarlett,
At some point early in the year, we were reading one of your National Geographic Kids books (thanks, John Lalor!), and you discovered the fun fact that the London Bridge of falling down fame is now located in Arizona. This prompted a short discussion of the location of the United States in relation to England, and a much, much longer discussion of whether or not the London Bridge actually fell down.

It did not. We looked it up on Wikipedia (source of all truths) and discovered that the bridge was taken down when it looked like it was not going to hold up to all that traffic in the 1800s. This, in turn, sparked an art project.

And a continuing obsession with EVERY VERSION of EVERY SONG containing the words London Bridge. This includes many lullabies and nursery rhymes, but does not stop there. Fergie has a song called London Bridge. It contains a parental advisory warning. A band called Mindless Self Indulgence has a song called London Bridge. It contains a parental advisory warning. You refuse to heed these warnings.

I do realize, given that they are parental warnings, that I am the one who's supposed to enforce them. But I figure this is a decent lesson in music genres. You also like a country version, a "Dora" version, and a really lovely one by the Slovak pop singer Miro Zbirka.

Last week, we took a spring break road trip to Indian Wells, California. During one leg of our car ride, you sang London Bridge so loudly that Dad and I could do nothing but look at each other and laugh. You had a fabulous time going down the water slide at our hotel, and screamed random words as you came down each time. "DORA THE EXPLORAH!" seemed to be your favorite. "I love how much fun she's having," one lifeguard observed.



You were on a fry and ice cream diet by the pool, which was fine with me and Dad, because we were on a margarita diet. A good time was had by all, but we also all discussed how excited we were to get home and be in our new house.

"I miss my bed," you said.

"I miss the deck," I said.

"I miss the floor," you said.

Vacation seemed to continue when we got home, since the weather in SF has been awesome. The grill is set up, and Dad has immediately taken to his new role of Grillmaster. Last night over burgers, you requested background music. Guess what it was?

Love,
Mom

Birthday Girl

Thanks to Darren for the amazing photos!

An Overdue Update

Dear Scarlett,
Yikes, it's been a long time since I wrote you a letter. As usual, there is just a lot going on, and I'm spending more time living life than recording it. But I want to do both.

We've been in our new house for a month now, and it's still under construction. Every day around 8am, the doorbell rings and the workers file in. There are tilers, deck builders, glass installers, plumbers, electricians, cabinet makers, and painters. You and Dad leave for school and work, and the workers and I settle into our day. I know them all by name, and I'm honestly going to miss them when the house is done. It will seem awfully quiet. On the plus side, I won't have to put on pants.

For the past several months, I've been very busy with your school fundraiser. In the weeks leading up to the March 8 event, it truly became a full-time job. I really enjoyed doing it, especially being on a team with some wonderful moms from school who have become good friends. And the event was a huge success, raising lots of money for your school! But it was also exhausting, in a lot of ways, and I'm glad that it's over. Now I can focus on all the things I've been neglecting. Like writing and showering. Just kidding. Showering is overrated.

The house is looking great. We were out on the deck last night, watching the sun set over the ocean, and it was so peaceful that I didn't really worry all that much when Dad found an open switchblade lying on a pile of wood planks. I also didn't really worry that the fence is not done, and with one wrong move, any of us could have fallen over the edge and landed on the house below ours. The reason for my calm is that you are nearly four years old, and you understand rules and safety better than ever before. You continue to get more helpful and to be a better listener. It's a huge relief. I mean, I'm not sure I trust that you'd know what to do with a switchblade, but that's probably a good thing.

Your birthday is on Sunday, and we'll be celebrating at the Randall Museum with a ventriloquist and his crow puppet. Seriously, just typing that creeps me out. But I've been assured that it's a perfect show for your age group, and you will be invited onto the stage during the performance, which will no doubt be hilarious.

Dad and I are having a difference of opinion regarding your birthday party. When he turned 4, he was allowed to invite 4 guests to his party. You invited 41. I have endured jokes about it being your quinceanara, your coming out party as a debutante, and your wedding. Nothing will deter me from throwing you a rocking party, though. ROB.

This weekend we went to Tahoe with Leon and his family, and the two of you had a great time skiing while the grown-ups (Leon calls us "growing ups") relaxed in the 70 degree weather and tried to spot you coming down the mountain. There is something so incongruous about watching your child ski while you are sweating in a tank top. It's been a weird winter. And an absolutely awesome one.

Love,
Mom

My Baby

Dear Scarlett,
You got a hair chop this month. You've been asking if you can get your hair cut short, "LIKE A BOY. LIKE DADDY." And I pushed back because I don't think that would necessarily be the best look on you. So, we compromised (which, as an aside, is one of your new favorite words, as in "Come on, let me have another cookie. COMPROMISE.") You got several inches taken off of your curly locks, and now you go around telling people you have a hairstyle like a two-year-old. Every day, you ask me if it's still short.

There's been a lot of regression in your behavior since your cousin Jack was born, and I think wanting to look like you're two is part of that. When Jack throws food, you throw food. When Jack bangs on the table, you bang on the table. When Jack drools, you actually drool. And when Jack wears baby clothes--which he does all the time, because those are his clothes--guess what? You wear Jack's baby clothes.

In many ways, though, you're such a big girl. You're so good at occupying yourself with books and toys, making gigantic castles and towers with your MagnaTiles and wooden blocks. You love to play music on your keyboard. You dress yourself every morning, usually in amusing combinations of layers, which is very San Francisco of you.

I got a wheelchair on Monday, and I'm still adjusting to that fact. At first, I was very unhappy that I needed it, but then you and I took it outside and went around the block together. We rode in circles through our courtyard as fast as we could, laughing, and practically draining the battery in the process. You pointed out to me that it was the first time in a long time that we were outside alone together. You said that it was special. And it was.

Love,
Mom

New Year

Dear Scarlett,
Happy new year! We spent our holidays in Chicago and Anderson, Indiana, and got to see tons of family and friends. Christmas morning at Nonnie and Pops' house was a blast. You and Jack opened a gazillion presents: Magna-tiles, art paper, Legos, books, and--your favorite thing--footie pajamas. It's all you asked for every time we discussed Christmas. And they even had a detachable hood! Bonus. Although we already lost the hood. So, unbonus.

In Anderson, we had a beautiful memorial for Uncle John. There were photos and videos, fireworks (too loud for you), and Chinese lanterns (only some of which ended up setting fire to the trees in the backyard.) The police were not called, and everything ended harmoniously. We listened to Aerosmith, Joan Jett and Tom Petty. Uncle John would have loved it, and I am super annoyed that he wasn't there. You played with Meadow and Layla, two of Aunt Jamie's other nieces, and just generally loved being in a house packed with great people. (I think I counted that 18 of us were staying there at once.)

School started again today, which is why I'm able to sit down in front of the computer for the first time in what seems like weeks. I LOVE SCHOOL.

Dad and I didn't make any New Year's resolutions this year. I just want it to be a good year, full of work and play. I really mean that part about work, I've realized that I absolutely need projects to keep me busy, lest I go out of my mind sitting home alone every morning. Luckily, I have more than enough to stay occupied.

We're moving next month, which is beyond exciting. We're so ready to be in the new house, though it suddenly feels like there's a lot to do before the big day. For example, where exactly are we going to put all of our STUFF? The house is not huge, and to really set it up properly, we need the right kind of furniture, none of which we currently own. Lucky for you, this is not your problem, although, fair warning, you might find that some of your bigger toys have, um, disappeared, once we move. There are a lot of commas in that sentence.

I think 2013 was a better year than 2012, and I'm hoping 2014 is even better. It's funny to say that, because in some ways, things will definitely get harder. I need to get a wheelchair, and that's a psychological step I'm a bit nervous about. Physically, though, it will be really great, much like when I got Fiddlestick, my purple walker. But I'm looking forward to so many things this year. You will turn 4. Jack will turn 2. We'll enjoy the house, with its fire pit and ocean views. And I plan to do more writing, one of the things that makes me happiest.

I imagine you will continue to say and do hilarious things, which I also look forward to.

I love you,
Mom

Feistiness

Dear Scarlett,
On Sunday, the New York Times published an essay that I wrote about what it's like to be your Mom and to have ALS. For about two days, I felt like I was going to throw up whenever I thought about sharing our experience so widely. Every time there was a new comment on the piece, I got nervous. Would they be kind? Would they understand?

I'm happy to say that the comments turned out to be very interesting and respectful. I'm feeling much calmer about the whole thing, and I'm glad that I was able to further my--our--goal of raising awareness about ALS. And, as always, it's fun to write about you.

We've been having a lot of fun this month. You decorated gingerbread houses with some friends from school, which really means that you ate a bunch of candy that was intended for the house, and then went on an insane spree of dumping out all of your toy bins and running up and down the hall like a wild animal, only to collapse in a heap when it was time to clean up.

We joined another friend from school and her mom for a dance performance of The Velveteen Rabbit. You loved the first act, but by the second act, you decided you would rather roll on the floor behind our seats than pay attention to the stage. Is there a theme here? It's possible you're too young for some of these activities. But I still had a good time.

Your entire preschool class seems to be overly focused on superheroes this year. Dad and I are trying to get you to stop pointing at us and yelling "BAD GUY!" when you don't get what you want. You also informed me the other day for no reason that you were going to punch me in the face. I sent you to your room, and you marched off, announcing that I was no longer your friend AND I wasn't getting any Christmas presents. Later, we snuggled on the couch and read books.

You are very into Italian music and cartoons lately. Pimpa is a new favorite, and you love to sing and dance to Gira Gira Tondo. Today Aunt Shishie went with you to school for Grandparents and Special Friends Day. She got to do an art project with you, and when it was time to go, you didn't want her to leave. So she told you that you could have a sleepover at her house this week. Way to work the angle, sweetheart. I guess Shishie is the good guy today.

Love you,
Mom

La Scuola

Uncle Ha Ha

Dear Scarlett,
Your Uncle John, Dad's older brother, passed away yesterday. He was diagnosed with lymphoma a mere 2 months ago, and he had a very rare and aggressive form that acted fast. Uncle John was a strong, healthy guy, someone with seemingly unlimited energy and a constant supply of laughter. You called him Uncle Ha Ha, which began after one of his trips to San Francisco with Aunt Jamie. You and Uncle Ha Ha laughed all the time together. You made him so happy.

Uncle John knew a lot of things. He was a tool and die maker at General Motors, working in both Indiana and Michigan at different times. When Dad and I lived in Manhattan, our oven stopped working, which we only noticed once a very cold dinner had been sitting in there "cooking" for about 30 minutes. Dad called Uncle John, and after hearing a two sentence-description of the problem, Uncle John told us exactly how to fix it. This involved sticking toothpicks into tiny holes at the back of the oven. It worked right away.

When Dad was little, he shared a room with Uncle John. John was 16. Dad was 6. Dad claims that it was this early exposure to very loud Led Zeppelin that both formed him musically and wrecked his hearing. John didn't go directly to college, and it wasn't until his 40s that he went back and got his degree. I remember that Dad was so impressed and proud of him.

Uncle John had two daughters, your dear cousins Jessica and Danielle, and one grandson, Eathan. He and Aunt Jamie were together for more than 10 years, and married for 3. They were a wonderful couple, so well matched, and it was always clear how much they enjoyed their life together. They raised swans in their backyard, in a beautiful, big pond across from a nature reserve. Visiting them was always fun and relaxing, and we would take long walks along nearby trails when you were little. John was an expert at making bonfires. We would sit and roast marshmallows by the pond at night, and he would introduce some crazy new drink (Sambuca and espresso beans, once) that he had either created or discovered.

He and Aunt Jamie had a bird named Cookie, who drank coffee and wine, and ate human food, and hearing Uncle John talk to that bird always made me laugh. You still talk about Cookie Bird.

Your Uncle John was the perfect big brother for me. He welcomed me into the family long before Dad and I got married. He drove me crazy sometimes, as a good big brother should, and we argued about silly little things. But he was also attentive, inclusive and loving. When I got sick, John brought me strength and positivity. I tried to help him in the same way when he got sick.

My friend Ellie said that it's hard to know if a short battle with cancer is a good thing or a bad thing, and I think that's really true. I wouldn't have wanted Uncle John to be in pain any longer, but it is hard to imagine the world without him. I will miss his laugh, miss yelling at him to recycle all those wine bottles we used to go through, and miss the more recent conversations we had about what it is like to suddenly be sick when you used to be so healthy. They weren't depressing talks--we were able, I think, to encourage each other, to get some strength from our similar situations.

I will miss your Uncle Johnny so much. And I wish you'd gotten more time with him, too.

Love,
Mom

A Story You Told Me

Dear Scarlett,
A boy walks into a bike store and asks the doctor for a bike for his little sister.

"How old is she?" asks the bike doctor.

"Three," says the boy.

"And how old are you?" asks the bike doctor.

"I'm four," says the boy.

The doctor asks the boy what his sister's name is and the answer is "Despicable Me." The boy's name, it turns out, is "Strawberry Watermelon Pumpkin Apple Brownie Surprise."

"That sounds delicious," says the doctor.

He sells the boy a bike in his sister's favorite colors (red and pink) and a matching helmet. This costs $100 and the boy leaves with his change. But he quickly comes back to tell the bike doctor that his belly hurts.

"Why?" asks the doctor.

The little boy explains that his three-year-old baby sister is coming out of his belly, and she will be ready for her new bike. Out she pops and they take off riding.

The End.

Love,
Mom

Best Birthday Present Ever

Thanks Scarlett and Aunt Shishie!

Decorating

Dear Scarlett,
I was on the phone with our contractor last week when you slipped out of the living room. It took me a few minutes to realize you had gone into my room and shut the door. Not allowed, since whenever you're in there, you manage to find and unwrap all of Dad's biking snacks. So I called to you that the door had to be open, and you complied. I spent another ten minutes on the phone, and walked into the bedroom to see what you were doing. "What are you doing?" I asked, and before I even saw you, I heard you say, "I'm painting my nails."

This was not good news.

I went further into the room and saw that you were naked, covered head to toe (and fingers) in nail polish: a smear on your forehead, a bunch on your stomach, and streaks up and down your legs.

[Side note: You are watching me write this letter, and you just asked me if it could be about a duck.]

Anyway, I then surveyed the floor, which was covered in medicine. Unopened Dayquil tabs lay everywhere, and you held up a bottle of Liquid Children's Tylenol and said, "I was trying to drink this, but I couldn't open it."

More bad news.

I scrubbed your body with nail polish remover, noting peripherally that there was nail polish on the walls, rug and Dad's chair. I lectured you about the dangers of EVERYTHING YOU HAD BEEN DOING.

So now the attractive, but taboo materials have been moved--the main problem being that our bathrooms don't have any storage space that is out of your reach--and you are no longer allowed in our room alone at all.

By the way, all of Dad's biking snacks were also opened and lying on the floor. I will now only take phone calls if I can keep my eyes on you the entire time. I know I learned my lesson. But based on how hard you were laughing as I cleaned you up, I'm not sure you did.

Love,
Mom

Photo shoot

Quotes

Dear Scarlett,
I love how much you love books. Even as a tiny baby, you had clear preferences, as evidenced by the way your eyes followed certain stories, and even certain pages within those stories. As you got older, you would crawl over to the shelf to grab your favorites and bring them back to me.

I've known for a while how books have helped shape your language acquisition, but it never fails to amuse me. Here are some of the ways that you have inserted your books and characters into our daily life.

-----------------

Dad was working late one night, and we thought you wouldn't see him until morning. But I was putting you to bed when we heard his key in the door.

You popped straight up, and said "Is it possible?? Have my dreams come true?" [The Pigeon Wants a Puppy by Mo Willems]

-----------------

The other day I told you that you were beautiful.

"No, I'm not," you argued.

"Yes, you are," I replied.

"No, I'm not," you said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I have knobbly knees and turned-out toes." [The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson]

-----------------

You were getting dressed. "What are you going to wear?" I asked.

"You must not look at me," you announced. [Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel]

-----------------

For no reason at all:

"Hey you, want to fight?" [The Grouchy Ladybug by Eric Carle. Thanks a lot, Eric Carle.]

"Tormented a little mouse!" [Bad Kitty by Nick Bruel]

"For pete's sake, give her some carrots!!" [Diary of a Wombat by Jackie French]

-----------------

There's more, of course. I feel like half the stuff that comes out of your mouth is from a book. And that's not a bad way to live your life. 

Love,

Mom

GECKO!

Dear Scarlett,
When I was in grade school, I decorated my locker and my room with photos ripped from magazines. Most of the kids (or maybe just the girls?) did this. It was a way to reflect the people we were becoming, the things we liked, and our desire to go public with our every thought and feeling. In a way, it was a localized, 80s version of Facebook. My choices were River Phoenix, Corey Haim, and Johnny Depp. Later, there was the cast of Beverly Hills 90210. At one point, I started incorporating Jack Handey quotes. I'm going to stop talking about myself now.

Here's why I'm telling you this. You, too, are in the process of developing your tastes, your likes and dislikes, your, shall we say, obsessions. And there is one little guy who wins out above all else in your heart. When you see him on tv, you shriek. On a billboard, you point and scream. And when you found him in a magazine the other day, well, there was nothing else to do but sticker him to your wall.

Yes, it's the Geico gecko. When you were very small, you used to point at him on billboards and yell "A SEAL!" You were gently corrected, and the fascination began. And I suppose, if I'm being honest, that it's not just your fascination. I now know which streets to turn on so that we can see the Geico billboards on our various routes through the city. I bought you a stuffed gecko. We kneel on the futon and watch the Geico banner flying over AT&T park on game days. Geico is the car insurance Dad and I use.

So, your wall is decorated, and not just with your photo of the gecko. You've also taken many, many opportunities to draw on it with any writing utensil you can find. Every day, I tell you it's not ok to color on the walls and every day, I swear I see new evidence that you've done just that. Dad and I are not super happy about this, given the fact that we're in this apartment temporarily and will have to pay to have the walls painted. When we move into the new house, I really hope you don't draw on the walls, because I'll tell you exactly who will turn a different color: Dad.

You started soccer yesterday, and it was not quite what I expected. You vaguely listened to the instructions about dribbling inside the square and only using your feet, and then you proceeded to dribble your ball straight out of the square and pick it up with your hands. Maybe if your coach was a gecko, you would pay more attention.

But you certainly looked the part. Here you are with our fantastic new assistant, Rochelle. She's been with us for about 2 weeks, since Uncle Mike returned to Vegas.

This post was not actually brought to you by Geico.

Love,
Mom