Eerie

So check this out. When we were in L.A. last weekend, my Grandma brought old, old pictures of my Dad when he was a baby. Can you imagine that, my Dad was a baby? How does that work? And how are babies made? I'll have to ask my parents for specifics on that process.

So here's a pictureof my dad, followed by one of me...This freaks me out a bit.














Please, if someone has a friend at the justice department, have them look into a potential cloning charge. Since I doubt my parents conceived in South Korea, they must have broken the law.

Also, a quick shout out to my big cousin Sam. We went to one of his baseball games last weekend. He gets up with the bases loaded and hits a hard grounder up the middle that goes to the wall and ends up with a grand slam! His first ever home run, and it's a grand slam, and in front of his whole family!!! Here he was at bat, you know, for the scouts.



One more thing. Most people know we're early in the baseball season, and my hometown team of the Giants are terrible, presumably because they sold their souls to the devil to sell tickets to see the chemical reaction known as Barry Bonds. Something similar happened in "Oh God, You Devil" but that movie was, of course, horrifyingly stupid. So I don't think I want to become a Giants fan. But here's the trick - my mom is a Red Sox fan and my dad is a Yankees fan. Clearly I'm destined for a career in arbitration. But I think I'll have to take sides soon. I'm open to guidance from others with similar struggles....

Love,
Spencer

I love LA (we love it)

I visited LA for the first time this past weekend. I'm not sure I love LA. This might surprise you from the heading of this post, but it's true. Too much traffic, too much pollution, too many strip malls with nail salons, too many guys on corners holding signs pointing to a nearby furniture sales, too much traffic (did I mention that already?)

But I loved visiting my family in LA for the first time!

More on the trip later, as I'm exhausted from the long drive back home, but here were a few highlights:

- Meeting my twin cousins Ryan and Sydney for the first time
- Seeing my big cousing Sam hit a grand slam in his little league game! To be honest, the official scorekeeper (possibly that creepy guy in the back corner with a camera and pad) probably called it a single with a three base error, but what does he know!
- My first Passover Seder, where I heard, in extreme summary, how my forebears were delivered from Egypt by Charlton Heston, who then sent all of the slave lawyers back to bondage for not supporting the right to kill with guns.
- Meeting Bodhi, Shai and Kate, the children of my parents' friends. It's good to know I'll have friends my age in L.A. to crash with when I come down trolling for women during my 20's!

Here are a few pictures...

I loved this little purple lizard (NOT Barney) who played Rappers Delight (a hip a hop a hippy and a hoppy...)




My cousins at the Seder! Not sure what was up with the matching camoflauge jammies...


Me and Grandpa!












Me, Grandma and Grand Slam Sam



Me and Aunt Carin!

3 months old and still growing

Today is my 3 month birthday! For those so inclined, I'm not big on receiving gifts, so in lieu of 3-month birthday presents, please send me 4-month birthday presents.

As I wrote a few posts ago, I've recently discovered that my hands do, in fact, belong to me, and apparently so do my five fingers. Staring at my fingers for so long, and trying to put all five of them (plus the rest of my hand) into my mouth at the same time, I've learned a bit of math, so on this birthday I did some nifty calculations.

Without the benefit of a baby scale, I'd estimate that in just three months I've grown from an 8lb. 1oz., 20.5 inch newborn into a 15lb., 24.5in. infant, depending on whether I've recently pooped. According to my Dad, I've gone from the size of a red-tailed lemur to that of a ring-tailed lemur, but quite honestly I don't think he knows what a lemur is.

If I consider that the average American born in 2008 has a life expectancy of 77.9 years, then if I continue my growth trajectory, by then I'll be 2,161 lbs. 12 oz. in weight and 103 ft 10in tall! Hopefully my feet will grow, too, otherwise I'll tip over.

Here's my representation of what I will look like next to a giraffe in 77.9 years.













Now, of course, in doing my calculations I used a straight line approach - growing by roughly 7 lbs. and 4 inches every 3 months. I thought this was more reasonable than the exponential approach, where I'd grow my weight by 86% and height by 20% every three months. That would top me out at 1.5x10^85 lbs and 2.7x10^24 ft tall, which is apparently larger than our solar system. I'm not kidding, that's what it works out to. Frankly, I think the straight line number is more likely, don't you? I'm going to need bigger onesies.

Anyway, I'm excited to go visit my cousins in LA this weekend, and no doubt I'll have many pictures of them poking and prodding me and treating me like an inanimate object. So stay tuned!

Love,
Spencer

Playing on my new playmat!

My parents finally gave me a new mat to play on. It's this awesome patchwork of foam letters that spells out ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ. I don't know what that word means, but it's very long so it probably means something in German. The only catch is that my parents only put together the letters A through L because that's all that fits in my play area...because they still haven't gotten rid of their coffee table from the living room. I can tell you, either it goes or I go. Boo-ya, Crate and Barrel.

I've become pretty adept at grasping things. I have this rattly thing that I like to grab. I don't shake it yet, mainly because I'm a pacifist. Here's a picture of me holding it earlier today.










I'm also enjoying tummy time more, even though my tummy gets in the way. Get a load of my jowls in this picture. I fear what I'll look like when I'm an old man. My cheeks will be like National Geographic jungle breasts. I'll need a jowl-bra. You know, I might patent that idea.










One more picture - this time SuperSpencer!

The Ascent of Man

Spencer Protests Olympic Torch in SF

Today the Olympic torch made its only stop in the US here in San Francisco. Those of you following the news heard that thousands of people lined up on the announced route along the Embarcadero - supporters and protesters alike - only to be duped by a last minute change that re-routed the torch along a different, secret path to the Golden Gate bridge that nobody watched and nobody protested. Also, I heard through my network that to make positively sure protesters didn't catch on, the torch was disguised, so random San Franciscans going about their daily affairs witnessed 80 people in white jumpsuits each running 100 yards passing a garden gnome with its hat on fire. For those of you who thought this was a protest against Expedia, this was in fact the Olympic torch. The whole thing kind of reminds me of when the Colts left Baltimore under cover of darkness.

I protest this type of subversiveness! Now, to be straight with you, I don't know much about China. Some protesters went on and on about Tibet, and about the Falun Gong Show, and artificial exchange rates that hold down US wages, and environmental degradation...but I don't know anything about these things. My most loyal readers (i.e., Dad) know that to me, everything is about eating and pooping...and Chinese food-influenced breast milk tastes yummy and makes my poop smell like soy sauce. So I'm all for that. But not this subversiveness!

So I know it's a bit late to protest an Olympic torch run that's already been run and is now on a plane to who knows where (unless it was planning to fly American Airlines, of course).

But I protest anyway! And what am I going to do about it? You're on the edge of your vibrating bouncy chairs, aren't you...

I'm calling on all babies to baby boycott the Olympics! Not the whole thing, of course. I kind of like track and field. And swimming and diving are interesting. So are soccer and all the team sports. And gymnastics and wrestling. Actually, most of them are kind of fun to watch or mock.

But since I have to baby boycott something, I'm choosing archery.

In no way will I watch any of the archery coverage on NBC this year! I urge babies worldwide to join with me to send this message to the torch people! Down with archery! (Note - if someone gets accidentally impaled with an arrow, I'll probably break down and watch it on youtube).

Here's a picture of me with my version of the Olympic rings. My look of consternation is palpable, no?












While we're on the topic of Olympics, why isn't there a babylimpics? There's a regular olympics, a special olympics and a paralympics. Lots of companies do office olympics, but they're generally stupid. Every college fraternity does drinking olympics to get stupid. But no baby olympics? If there were a baby olympics, I'd definitely enter the competition for rhythmic crib standing. Check this out - and I'm not even three months yet!












BTW, the whole story about the subversive torch run is totally true. Except the garden gnome thing, maybe I made that up.

That's it for now.

Love,
Spencer

New Digs

Today was a truly momentous day. For the past 2 1/2 months, I've slept in a bassinet either next to my parents' bed or in my room. Truth be told, I'm quite attached to the bassinet. I'm getting a bit big for it, but I like reaching out and grabbing both sides to make it swing. But today, for the first time, I took a nap in my crib in my room. And let me tell you, babies, it's everything I thought it could be.

OK, maybe that's overstating it a bit, but it went fine as far as I could tell. The bars evoke a bit of Guantanamo (read my earlier blog about high flow nipples for my thoughts on waterboarding...). The larger size makes me feel like I've shrunk overnight. The fact that it's in my own room makes me feel like I've left for college, only without the futon and cans of tuna. But overall I'm cool with it. That's just how I roll. I haven't spent a full night there, but I have a feeling my parents are trying to ease me into it. If any of you see my parents, please tell them to switch me to the crib now. Sometimes my dad snores like a drowning hippo.

I've also become quite good at flipping over onto my back. It still surprises me once I accomplish the deed. Now if only I could figure out what to do once I get there. I haven't yet figured out how to get back on my front. Doesn't this sound a bit like our Iraq policy?

As a last comment, I'd like to welcome any and all suggestions for how to pimp my crib. Right now it's a plain white crib, and the only accoutrement is a mirror. Apparently my parents want to make me narcissistic as early as possible. I'm sure my parents have ideas, but nobody ever accused them of having style. Please help.

Love,
Spencer

Family month continues...

Yet more family arrived this week! My sippy cup runneth over.

My Grandma and Grandpa Weinberg came this week; in fact, my dad dropped off one grandma and picked up another one in the same trip to the airport. I'm sure there's a sitcom episode in that someday.

It's so fun to see family! I hadn't seen Grandma and Grandpa Weinberg since my bris...and to be honest, when I saw Grandpa for the first time, I looked around to make sure there wasn't a crazy bearded guy with a knife nearby. I also closed my legs as tight as I could. They already took a little off the top, I don't want a buzz cut, if you know what I mean. Buzz cut is a euphemism for excess circumcision. Of my willie. Just wanted to make that clear. It still gives me the chills.

So here are a few pictures. My Grandpa is looking a bit goofy, if you ask me.




Love,
Spencer

Spencer discusses poop

As promised, I want to take a few moments to discuss the poop situation.

But first, a quick note. I, like many babies, really don't like when someone puts a shirt over my head. It's just plain uncomfortable. Especially when someone tries to stuff your arms through those little holes. So, please, if anyone sees my dad this week, can you please ask him to stop saying "it puts the lotion in the basket" every time he puts my arms through the arm holes. It just freaks me out. Yes, I've seen Silence of the Lambs...the animated version.

Now on poop. My parents have been fawning over my odor-free poop for my whole life. No doubt they'll have a rude awakening the first time they feed me real food. But my poop has been - shall I say evolving? - week by week. Yellow, green, brown...I've gone through all the colors of the Australian National basketball team.

So I poop about 6 times a day right now. It's pretty much like clockwork after every meal, which according to my dad is just like my grandpa, but without the toilet reading. It made me think about all those pictures of animals in my room, and how they poop.

For example, when a bird poops on a lion in the wild, do the other lions say how lucky that is?

When a bat is hanging from a cave, does it poop upward?

Do giraffe hooves smell like poop from the splatter?

When a cheetah is chasing its prey, and the prey poops, does the cheetah tiptoe?

Does a brown bear poop white so it knows where to wipe?

Does whale poop float, and if so why aren't there more boating accidents?

Anyway, these are some poop-related questions I've been thinkng about. If anyone knows the answers feel free to post a comment.

Love,
Spencer