The Beautiful Universe

When Mira was first diagnosed I found it heartbreaking that she might never see the breathtaking beauty of a starry night sky. So this just made me immensely happy.

The Kid Loves Books

Mira's eye surgery is scheduled for next week. We've heard wonderful things about the surgery, which will correct her strabismus, head tilt and hopefully dampen her nystagmus, all of which combined will improve her vision a great deal. She's starting to cruise now, but she's wobbly and I wonder if some of that is because the strabismus is affecting her depth perception. Other than that, I find that I frequently forget she has any vision issues at all, because she manages to find all the wires and light sockets just like any other baby.

In any event, if you read this blog, please think good thoughts for her on Wednesday.

More new pictures up on flickr.

House Hunting Lexicon

We have been house hunting for about two months now, and I've become fluent in Realtor-ese, so I thought I would put together a handy Realtor-to-English dictionary:

"The school is improving" = Only three people were knifed there last year.

"It just needs a few cosmetic repairs" = The entire house may collapse in upon itself while we are standing here.

"It's a really safe location" = The house is across the street from a police station.

"So convenient to the subway" = The A train runs below the basement.

"This is really an up and coming area" = There is a hipster coffee shop in between the OTB and the check cashing place.

"Don't you love the retro-70s vibe of this place?" = The stairs are collapsing.

"Don't look at the rental as an owner, look at it as a renter." = Some renters are perfectly happy to live without a stove or a bedroom that fits a bed.

"The garden is really special." = The garden has a tree in it.

"You might have to negotiate with the person renting the top floor." = The renter on the top floor has barricaded herself into her apartment and food is being delivered directly to her fourth-floor window via step ladder.

"Hostile tenant situation" = The tenant is about to set fire to the house.

But Is It An EVIL Teething Biscuit?

This video illustrates pretty much everything you need to know about Mira. She throws things, and then, when scolded, snickers knowingly. This is in part why we have begun calling her Destructo:

Today I Am A Man

For Milo's first Hanukkah he got a book that had pictures of the Maccabees holding spears in it, along with the story of Hanukkah. He wold point at the picture and say, "mop" because, in his one year old mind, all adults should be holding mops at all times. Now Milo is four, and things are different. This year marked the first holiday season that he is really cognizant of, you know, stuff, and it has been a learning process for us all.

Last week Milo got to go on his first business trip, accompanying me to Hershey, PA. When we checked into the hotel, on the seventh night of Hanukkah, he stopped in the lobby and cocked his head, listening to the music, which, of course, was assorted Christmas music.

"Why are they singing about Christmas?" he asked angrily. "It's Hanukkah!"

Well Milo, because all holidays are not created equal.

"It's going to be Christmas soon," I explained. "And people get excited about it."

"Is Christmas tomorrow?" Milo asked, as though this would be the only reasonable explanation for the hotel to play Christmas music.

And then there is Santa.

"Am I on the good list or the bad list?" Milo asked me yesterday.

"What?" I asked, buying time.

"There's a good list, for good guys, and a bad list, for bad guys," Milo explained. "Am I on the good list?"

"There isn't really a list," I said. "People like to pretend Santa keeps a list of good kids and bad kids."

We had discussed Santa earlier in the week, when I accidentally tuned the car radio to a station playing Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer and started singing along, so I knew he was familiar with the concept.

"This is a funny song," I'd said to Milo, who was in the backseat.

Milo listened for a minute and then ask, "Why is it funny?"

I was about the try to explain irony when the song got to the line 'you may say there's no such thing as Santa...' and I heard a gasp from the back seat.

"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS SANTA???"

"No," I said. "There is no such thing as Santa."

Silence.

"What do you know about Santa?" I asked.

Milo thought a minute. "Presents from Santa," he said.

"Yeah,"I said. "Well, there isn't really a Santa." And then I followed this astounding announcement with something that I knew would be even harder for Milo to comprehend. "And you can't tell your friends," I said.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because their parents told them there is a Santa. So, you know, just don't talk about it with them. You can talk about it to me and Dad, and other adults, but not your friends."

"Santa you only talk about with your parents," Milo said, clearly filing it under Things One Only Discusses With Parents, along with other topics like interesting things he can do with his penis and pooping.

"Right," I agreed, figuring this classification would do the trick at least temporarily.

Steven told me that a few days later he and Milo were having dinner with one of Milo's friends when the friend's father started holding out the Santa carrot to get the kid to behave. Milo glanced at Steven, as though debating whether or not to inform this friend that there was no such thing as Santa, then smiled knowingly and kept it to himself.

And then there was the explanation of Hanukkah, which came one night when we were reading the book about the Maccabees and their mops.

"So, there were the Greeks," I said. "And they wanted the Jews to be Greek."

"Why?" asked Milo.

I don't know, I wanted to say. Because religion makes people do crazy things? Because as long as there have been Jews there have been people who want there to not be Jews? Happy Hanukkah!

Then yesterday came the final right of passage. We were standing in Dunkin' Donuts, purchasing a box of munchkins to make up for the fact that Milo had to spend an hour of his school's Pajama Day in *gasp* regular clothes due to a miscommunication, when some guy smiled at Milo and said, "Merry Christmas."

And for the first time in his life, I thought I saw Milo seethe. I could see the wheels spinning in his little brain as he struggled to find an appropriate response. Aw, I thought, baby's first true Jewish struggle. Because there is not a Jew out there who has not wrestled with the appropriate response to "Merry Christmas." Do you just suck it up and respond with your own Merry Christmas? Do you make a point of insulting someone who is just trying to be pleasant by informing them that you don't celebrate Christmas. Do you go noncommittal and just say Happy Holidays?

Milo opted for another choice, one only available to four-year-olds. He stared evenly at the well-wisher and said nothing, leaving it up to me.

"Thanks," I said to the guy. And then I paid for my donuts.