No Shingles on the Roof

Around Christmastime many of us see our waistlines expand with the plethora of food and goodies and yet it seems just natural to give in to our temptations each and every year. Last year around this time Gusi was just starting finger foods so sweets were easy to conceal and keep from him. Not so this year.

My mom brought this incredible kit to make gingerbread houses and this morning we set about to making one. Mom also brought all the gumdrops, marshmallows, candy canes and chocolates that one uses to decorate a gingerbread house. We had made the dough, cut the pieces, baked them and put them together while Gusi played outside and then napped. While he napped mom tried, in vain, to get the house decorated. She told me she wanted to wait for Gusi to decorate it; I advised against that so she began without him.

Of course, what happened when the child woke up from his nap? He wanted his grandma. So I take him out of his crib and walk over to see his father who was working on the computer. Uh-uh was all I got from Gusi. He didn't want his father; where's grandma? So, with great hesitation I took him to the kitchen to see his grandmother. And there my mom was, sitting with a shoe box full of candies to decorate the gingerbread house. I knew this would not turn out well. Immediately Gusi wanted to sit in his grandmother's lap. She was happy to have him there.

What occurred afterwards was videotaped for posterity. There my mother sat, trying to put icing on the roof with a butter knife with her arms reaching around Gusi. The icing acts as a paste that holds the gum drops, candy canes and other decorations in place. Mom would put a gumdrop on the roof, Gusi would take it off and put it in his mouth. Mom would put a candy cane around the door and Gusi would snag it. Mom would put the marshmallows and coconut flakes to look like snow and Gusi would be the snow plow. For every three candies that went on the house, Gusi managed to take two off. Gee, I wonder why he wasn't hungry at lunch time?

I knew his father would not be pleased, but it isn't very often that Gusi has his grandmother around these days. He's allowed to be spoiled I suppose. Our gingerbread house has little finger imprints here and there but it is something I will remember for many years to come.

Happy Tabaski!

In Wolof one says Deweneti, or Happy New Year, on the feast of Eid al-Adha (Tabaski in Wolof). (It was yesterday, but so much happened that I didn't have the chance to blog.) This celebration is held approximately 70 days after Ramadan and commemorates when God called upon Abraham to sacrifice his son. Depending on if you're Christian, it was Isaac, son of Sarah, and if you're Muslim, it was Ishmael, son of Abraham's slave, Hagar. The story ends with Abraham sacrificing a ram instead and so Senegalese Muslims buy rams that meet specific standards in order to sacrifice them to God on this day. The rams are not cheap, the smallest ones can cost $400 and the largest ones can go into the $1000s of dollars. Families get into debt around this time of year in order to have a Tabaski celebration. We gave our Muslim night guards some money for the holidays.

The nice part of this holiday is that it is about giving. Charity is one of the pillars of Islam and so on Tabaski Muslims are supposed to give away much of their meat to the poor. Our neighbors invited us over to celebrate with their family. Gusi wasn't interested in the food, just the children. There must have been a dozen of them running around all calling his name. He had a blast.

Yesterday was also the day my mom arrived from the US. She got to the house in time for Gusi's wake-up time. The three of us went into his bedroom but when he heard my mom's voice PapaGus and I became invisible. His arms were outstretched and he had his sights set on his grandma. It was so beautiful.

Even though my poor mom was jet-lagged Gusi didn't let her rest. In fact, he insisted that they take a nap together, which they did. Spoiled? Maybe just a little. But it's the kind that a grandson needs when he hasn't seen his gradma in 4 months.

The rest of her trip should be nice. I'm thrilled she's here and Gusi is exstatic. Now all I need to do now is get ahold of her ticket so she doesn't return.

I'm Not From Ohio

This is the song that has been running in my head all day long today: Fire by the Ohio Players.

Why this song you ask? Because we had a small electrical fire today in the house. Yes, a fire. And no, thankfully no one was hurt.

We were hosting our play group get-together today so before everyone arrived Gusi, the housekeeper and I were in the kitchen getting snacks ready. As I peeled mandarins I noticed this strange smell in the kitchen. It was definitely coming from the water distiller but since we had just had it cleaned a few days before, I thought this was that same chemical-type smell and continued to peel more mandarins. Finally, the smell was getting worse so I walked over to the distiller and saw a small fire growing inside the big metallic box.

We've had problems with getting our chemicals to properly clean the distiller and when we finally did it had already started to leak. The technicians came by and promised to fix it but about two weeks went by and nothing was done. When it did get done, it was obviously bad work since the thing went up like a Roman candle.

I quickly turned one of the electrical switches to the distiller off, told the housekeeper to unplug it as well, and ran to get the fire extinguisher. Gusi, however, had other ideas. He knew something was up but wasn't sure what so he ran after me crying to pick him up, trembling. I managed to get him in one arm and the fire extinguisher in the other but as soon as I got back the fire was dying down. I let it put itself out and then called PapaGus who called the maintenance people and gave them a piece of his mind.

It was a crazy morning but I hope that tomorrow is much easier. One should be so lucky!

New Skills

Gusi is learning so many things each day. Here's a brief list of what he's most into these days.

1. Kicking. Especially soccer balls or things that could be mistaken for a soccer ball, such as a lime.
2. Jumping. If there's a step, he'll try to jump down from it. Ditto if he's on the couch.
3. Counting. This can go along with the jumping on some occasions as he counts to three and then jumps. He also knows his numbers up to 10 in three languages.
4. Singing. Favorites include "Baah, Baah Black Sheep", "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", "A, B, C", "Frère Jacques", "las Mañanitas" and "Do, Re, Mi".
5. Dancing. He is really into his Baby Loves Jazz music but also rips up the carpet to Johnny Cash, Brazilian samba, Frank Sinatra and African salsa.
6. Saying "No". He's a toddler, it comes with the territory.
7. Climbing. He's gotten particularly adept at getting onto chairs and sofas.
8. Talking on the phone. Real conversations and pretend ones are incredibly interesting.
9. Christmas spirit. There are lots of "ho, ho, ho-s" going around, especially each time we see a Christmas tree in a store window or when I turn on our Christmas lights at home.
10. Slides. For the longest time he just wanted to play on the swings at the play ground, but now he digs the slides.

Play Ground Kiss

PapaGus is out of town for a few days on business and I am looking for things to do with Gusi. Today we went out to buy some veggies and fruit across from the gas station. Yes, it sounds weird even to me, but there are kiosks set up all over the city, especially around gas stations. Why? Because people who frequent gas stations usually have cars and people who have cars usually have money.

After procuring our groceries we went to the American Club to visit the play ground. Granted this is the kind of play ground that most Americans would never take their kids to in the US, much less here, but since it is one of three (?) play grounds in the city, beggars can't be choosers. When we got there I recognized one of the cars parked outside as that of my friend Katie's. She's got two little girls, a 3-yr old and a 1.5-yr old. We found them inside the bar having just finished a class, along with a Turkish mom who's also in our play group. So, we decided that we would all go to the play ground together with the children.

Not two minutes after going, one of the dad's in our play group shows up with his son. There are now three boys and one girl all around the same age, plus a 3-yr old girl, running around and everyone is having a blast. The kids are running, jumping, getting dirty and the parents are chatting and sharing parenting tips. As it turns out, Gusi starts saying Katie's younger daughter's name over and over again. He always asks about her even though he is usually charmed by older kids more than their younger siblings, even if they are his same age. So he keeps saying her name and then he says her name followed by the word jolie (pretty or nice). I tell this to Katie and we both laugh. About a half hour later, after Gusi is still mentioning Katie's younger daughter's name, Katie's older daughter starts calling after Gusi. I suspected she might be jealous but just watched to see what would unfold. Gusi was oblivious. Every time the older daughter called his name, he looked around for the younger daughter. Finally, the older daughter walked right up to Gusi and planted one on him. Right there on the play ground. Now, Gusi has had cute encounters with little girls where a peck was given or received in complete innocence, but this was much more. This was a deliberate attempt to get Gusi's mind off of the younger sister. I asked Katie if her daughter had just planted one on my son and she laughed and said yes. Then she asked her daughter, "did you kiss Gusi?" She smiled and said she had. Then she went and did it again. Gusi was confused. I was astounded! She really didn't want him thinking about the younger sister.

Gusi and I still can't believe it happened. Really, what does one do in this situation? If we were Senegalese and the children were older, we'd be talking about how big of a goat was needed for the wedding ceremony. Given that we're not Senegalese I can only propose we talk about how many boxes of Annie's Cheddar Bunnies we should bring to the next play date.

Proud Moment

Today was a hectic day with no real dinner time to be heard of. We all kind of ate in shifts as other things needed to get done. So it was a complete surprise to me when I was getting Gusi ready for his bath that he said he had to go poo-poo. I asked him if he wanted to go in his little toilet (which upon its arrival has become a very interesting object) and he said yes. So, since his clothes were off already, I just took his diaper off and sat him down. He was so happy, smiling and even laughing. I wondered if he would do anything, so I kept asking him if he had to go. Yes, he said and proceeded to go. I was so happy that I clapped and gave him kisses and said what a clever boy he was. That positive reinforcement did the trick and he kept going until he had finished. Then he told me that he was done, I wiped his bottom and called his father to show him. When his father saw, we congratulated him again and again and again.

Incredible! I didn't think he would be ready for potty training but I guess if I just let him take the lead it might work out after all.

Ho! Ho! No!

I had been building up the anticipation for a few days now: Gusi would meet Santa Claus again. Last year he did really well and sat on Santa's lap long enough to give him his Christmas wish list and take a picture. We had practiced our HO HO HOs for days but it would not bear the fruit I had wanted.

The embassy was having a Christmas party and even though it was quite sunny today, Santa Claus came by in full get-up and took pictures with all the kids. We got there a bit late but were able to see Santa eventually. Gusi had seen the dessert table--with chocolate cake sitting on it--while waiting in line and was upset that we were passing it up to wait even longer. So, finally, when we got to see Santa an abrupt NO! came out of his mouth. No Santa, Mami! I squatted down with him but still No Santa, Mami! was all I heard. All anyone heard actually. The photographer snapped a picture and that was that. Gusi got a Christmas tree lollipop and ran off to play with the turtle and the other kids, all the while saying No Santa.

On our way home I kept asking Gusi what had happened with Santa. He laughed and said No Santa. I said, "but Gusi, I thought you were going to say Ho, Ho, Ho Merry Christmas to Santa." He looked at me from his car seat and said, "no Ho, Ho, Ho Mami, no Santa."

He was quite content to just hang out and have fun at the party. The Christmas tree was actually a bigger hit than Santa. Go figure.

Diagnosis

Now we know. The lab results from the stool samples came back. Salmonella. I'm just glad to know what it was he had. Oddly enough, this bacterial disease doesn't respond well to antibiotics so he'll just ride it out. He's doing better today but he still isn't 100% Gusi. I hope he gets back to normal soon.

Slow Recovery

Gusi seems to be doing a little bit better today. He hasn't had a fever so far and he had some yogurt and a banana this morning. And after a crazy night of sleep deprivation on all our parts, I hope he gets some rest today at nap time.

When I'm not thinking of Gusi--which is rare these days--I'm giving thanks that we have the means to take care of him. We have access to well-trained medical staff, we have money to buy medicines and we are two educated parents who know how to help him get better; so many children here in Africa don't have that.

I'm starting to count my holiday blessings already.

Who Would've Guessed?

Apparently blue and yellow suit me.

How about you?

Your Inner European is Swedish!

Relaxed and peaceful.You like to kick back and enjoy life.

Who's" Your Inner European?

Here We Go Again

I'm sick and tired of my son being sick and tired. Gusi got up last night after I finished the previous blog entry. He was crying for me. I let PapaGus know and asked him to help out. When he walked into Gusi's room he yelled for me to come. What did I find? Vomit everywhere. EVERYWHERE. The scene was ugly. We ended up doing a large load of laundry (a bit of a hassle because the laundry room is outside of our house in the back towards the garden), cleaning Gusi up and trying to get him some fluids. He vomited a few more times then started running a fever. He eventually managed to sleep a few hours only to wake up with diarrhea. He has had leaky diapers all day today, but the vomiting has stopped. We have an appointment to see the embassy nurse tomorrow though I suspect we'll hear that he has a virus--what a surprise. In any case, we should get him checked out in case it's something worse. This is just the pits. I want off this roller coaster.

Unpacked and Ready To Go

It's been just over a week and we are finally getting out of a mountain of boxes. (I will say that it is less painful to unpack than to pack.) We could have finished sooner but mentally, I just needed a break from figuring out where to put things and realizing that I have more junk than I need.

Last weekend Gusi was outside quite a bit with the gardener, but this weekend he was inside "helping" us. Ok, so he bowled a few rounds with my decorative candles, but he generally did quite well. All that was old seems new again, so his toys have become new sources of enjoyment. He's even taken to sleeping with his stuffed tiger, fish and monkey. The tiger is affectionately called a "meow meow" and no matter what I say to dissuade him that it's a "grr grr", he insists that it's a cat, so a cat he is.

His old/new books are also a welcome relief for both of us. For Gusi it means new stories, for me it means no more Tintin for a while. It is so violent! The characters hit, spit, fight, get drunk, smoke and do all other sorts of bad behavior. Not appropriate for a toddler, not at all. And yet, Gusi loved seeing the vignettes and following the storyline so if he didn't get Tintin as a bedtime book, I got an earful. I would try to skip over the really bad parts but still, he learned how to say "don't hit" (in English) because that was my moral to Tintin's story. So, I'm much happier now that we've got our Baby Loves Jazz series. Miles the Crocodile and Ella Elephant don't kidnap, poison or steal, thank goodness--they scat and be-bop.

All that is really left is a bit of organizing here and there and hanging up our art and pictures. We have a lot more room here in Senegal than we did in the US so the trick is using all of this space so that it shows off our pieces in the best way possible.

Oh, and I realized that one of the benefits of living in a tropical climate is that my son's clothes last a bit longer. Last year I remember that even though his clothes may have still fit him, the weather had changed meaning I had to get all new clothes anyway. Here, I feel like I'm getting my money's worth. He's still wearing short sleeved shirts and shorts, though occasionally he'll wear long pants. The shoes are a different story. Shoes here take a beating. They're washed a lot more, they're left outside in the hot sun, they're used for rock climbing at the beach--shoes just don't last as long here. I've ordered Gusi his first pair of online shoes. His feet have grown so I'm guessing at the shoe size but the internet is the only place I can get sandals in the middle of winter, so lucky me that I have internet. What would I do without it? Suffer probably.

Black Friday

While most of America was out buying early Christmas presents the day after Thanksgiving, we got a phone call we had been waiting for almost three months. Our things had arrived and would be at our house that morning.

PapaGus came home early from work and between the two of us we managed to direct the movers to get our things into the appropriate rooms. Jackie took care of Gusi and we ripped into our boxes.

We spent the entire weekend unpacking. And all I can think of is: we have a lot of stuff. Why would someone want to accumulate so much stuff? And then I think about the houses we've visited here and realize that when it comes to stuff (ok, junk), we are really not that bad, but still...there's a lot of junk that doesn't need to be here. For example...blankets. We're in Africa! What on earth possessed me to pack all the blankets we own? Granted, I'd never been here before and a lot of Senegalese are wearing coats at night (it is 75 degrees at night people! no need for a down coat), but still, we don't need so many blankets. Oh well, they're here now. Next time we move to a tropical climate I'll be more selective: winter clothes yes (because we might visit a cold place for holiday), excessive number of blankets no.

Turkey: It Tastes Like Chicken

We have had quite an exciting few days.

On Wednesday I dropped Gusi off at a play date and went with a friend, her driver, and our housekeeper to Marché Karmel downtown to do all of my veggie shopping for Thanksgiving. This is one of the biggest and best markets in town for fruits, vegetables and fish (they also sell meat but I prefer the French butcher's on the airport road) but it is in the dead center of town. Luckily it didn't take us long to get there and when we did, we had a great time around the seafood counters. Jackie was quite good at bargaining each and every price that was offered, so we got good deals on fresh fish (including tuna!), calamari and even mussels. Fruits and veg were easy too except that my friend got a call as we were finishing that we should leave town center since there were riots going on. I had heard there would be a possibility of demonstrations against the government (folks claim that the cost of living here is too high and they are right) by several unions and street merchants so we quickly left. As we drove back to my friend's house we saw tires burning, street merchants' stands burning and it took us quite a while to get back but nothing, thankfully, was ever directed at us. In some countries you'd have to watch out if you were a foreigner in the middle of a mess like this, but not here--here people are complaining about how expensive everything is and want the government to do something about it. You can't blame them.

Jackie and I spent all Wednesday preparing for Thanksgiving and all day Thursday cooking. We had three sets of friends over with their kids. The kids ran wild and Gusi loved it. He's never allowed to do what he was doing (run around screaming, spilling all the toys out onto the floor at once, scribbling on the floor) so he was in heaven. Out of our six friends, two are Americans who have lived overseas for a very long time and haven't had a turkey for Thanksgiving in ages since they are married to foreigners, one is British, one Italian and the last couple is an Australian-Malaysian mix. And yet, we all gave thanks for what we have, for our health, for our family, for the opportunity to live in a country as foreigners and still have a sense of community. Then WE ATE.

I had brined a turkey and then roasted it with oranges, apples and herbs de Provence. It was delicious. We also had sweet potato casserole, apple-sage stuffing, roasted green beans, fresh cranberry sauce (one of PapaGus' colleagues brought me a bag of fresh cranberries from the US on her business trip here just a few days before, bless her heart), scalloped potatoes (which my Malaysian friend made), homemade gravy, glazed carrots, a salad and bread (no rolls, just baguettes). Plus two desserts that the Malaysian mom and Italian mom made. Plus wine. Plus an expanding waistline. We were stuffed. And what did Gusi say about all of this? Well, he loved the cranberry sauce, he loved the sweet potatoes, had some green beans and chomped on the turkey. And even though we had gone through the whole "what is a turkey" thing with him days earlier when talking about the upcoming party, he still would ask for chicken when wanting more turkey. I would say, "Gusi this is turkey," and he'd say, "yes Mama more chicken please." Sigh. At least he ate and had fun.

It Takes a Village

The greatest part about living in Africa? People love kids. I mean, they really love kids. Everywhere we go, Gusi has instant play mates big and small. Everyone wants to talk to him, asks him his name, even pick him up and hug him (he doesn't always know what to do when this happens). They all believe it takes a village to raise a child.

Lately I've really realized how communal our son is. Our gardener and housekeeper are both Senegalese and have come, in our short time here, to care for Gusi. Our morning conversations go somewhat like this:

Me: Bon jour Antoine!
A: Bon jour Madame. How is Gusi? Did he sleep well?
Me: He's fine Tony, he's inside and will come out shortly. And yes, he slept well, thank you for asking.
A: Madame, tell Gusi that we will water the plants together today and then we will go looking for salamanders in the garden.
Me: I'll do that Tony.

Me: Bon jour Jacqueline! How are you?
J: Bon jour Madame, I am fine, how is Gusi?
Me: He's fine Jackie, he's waiting inside to get his shoes on so he can play in the yard with Tony.
J: Madame, you are running out of the mosquito repellent that is in the hallway. Do you have more? Gusi will need more since there lots of mosquitoes around here. It isn't good for him to be bitten you know.
Me: Yes, Jackie, I have more in the back and I'll make sure to leave it out.

Tony is teaching Gusi to play football (soccer) with a lime from the tree in the back yard. Jackie is teaching him nursery rhymes in French. The Senegalese are teaching all three of us how to have bigger hearts. Perhaps that's why we always include a special prayer for all the children of Senegal each and every night before Gusi goes to bed. If they're taking such an interest in my child, a prayer for theirs is the least I can do.

A Busy Week

We have had quite a hectic week this past week. PapaGus and I celebrated our wedding anniversary, I had my birthday, we went to the US Marine Ball and we had two dinner parties for some of PapaGus' colleagues who are visiting from the US. In between all of that we had pottery class (we're making Christmas tree ornaments), play group, a doctor's visit (to make sure Gusi's ear infection is fully cleared, which it is), market shopping and more.

The crazy part is that we've never gone out for a date since we've gotten to Dakar, so going out three times in one week has been a deluge. The Marine Ball was especially fun since we got to get all dressed up and danced the night away. It turns out one of the Marines here at the embassy grew up in Metairie, LA, one of the suburbs of New Orleans. I went over to introduce myself as a fellow Louisianian and wish a Marine a "happy 232nd birthday". I've never considered myself to be particularly patriotic, but to see these kids (and most of the Marines at the embassy here are in their early 20s) with all these medals and ribbons on their uniforms made me realize how much they have done in their short careers; several have even been to Iraq and were wearing purple hearts. So, I asked the Marine from Metairie if he had plans for Thanksgiving but he said they were all going over to the Deputy Chief of Mission's house (he's also the acting ambassador at the moment). Then I asked if he had plans for Christmas Eve. His eyes widened real big and he said no. I told him that he was invited to our house then. He said, that all the Marines would be quite happy to have a home-cooked meal for Christmas Eve. Uh-huh. My eyes widened. Ok. I thought I was inviting one Marine, but it looks like we will be having at least four of them. No matter, I can only imagine how happy their moms will be knowing that their kids are with a family at Christmas time. Besides, the Marines will be fed and happy as well. When I told PapaGus as I returned to our table that we would have the Marine Corps over for Christmas Eve he just laughed: our patriotic duty in the most unusual way. But they are kids after all, and it is the holidays and we are all far from home so it will be nice to share a meal with new friends.

Biblical Proportions

I kid you not when I say that the amount of butterflies I have seen in the last three days have been of Biblical proportions. Swarms of these pale yellow numbers flying everywhere around town. Gusi had to squint his eyes shut at the store the other day as we walked from the car to the door of the store--and we were parked four feet from the door--because there were so many butterflies swarming around. And somehow with the butterflies have come all kinds of creepy-crawlies and even creepy-jumpies. There are heaps of bugs coming in to the house. Heaps! Bugs are everywhere. Everywhere.

And why are there bugs in every corner now? The winds. The rainy season is coming to an end and with that come the winds from the desert and the winds bring something new each year. Apparently there have been swarms of locusts, grasshoppers and ants in the past. This year it is butterflies. I feel pretty ok about the butterflies I have to say...it could have been much worse. Sure there are other bugs running about, but the butterflies are overwhelming. Plus, when you add the swarms of butterflies to the goats that are down your street, and people walk around your neighborhood in long flowing robes, you do begin to wonder what time and place you are actually living in.

A Darker Shade of Pale

Gusi looks a lot like his father at first glance. They both have fair complexions to my dark one. (Yet, if you look closely, you will see me in our son.) And now it seems that we've been in Senegal long enough that both father and son are starting to tan. It's not like we've been sitting under the sun at the beach or pool. Quite the opposite; we go to the beach around four in the afternoon when the sun isn't strong, we use sunscreen and I never take Gusi to the pool around noon when the sun is the strongest.

Despite all of these precautions, he is getting tan. His little arms are getting a tanner glow to them, a tan that seems to recede to paleness at the sleeve line. His father is going through the same thing. PapaGus's neckline is a dark red which goes white at the collar of his shirt.

And me? Well, I'm not staying too far behind either. I feel the tans are more noticeable on them but as a whole, the entire family is getting darker. Our Christmas photos should be interesting this year.

Halloween Reflections

We went to the big American Halloween party and partook in the trick-or-treating. I didn't think that Gusi would know about scary things but he freaked out when he saw some of the masks and costumes. We had to work real hard to make him understand that these were all children dressed up. I hope he understood!?! In any event I feel terrible that he was scared.

He did enjoy getting the glow sticks that the Boy Scouts were selling as well as walking around the pool which was lit up at night.

Perhaps next year we'll skip this party so he isn't completely traumatized.

Halloween Woes

I'm anticipating that Halloween will be a bit of a nightmare. Actually, I'm anticipating that wearing his cute Halloween costume will be a bit of a nightmare. Gusi is supposed to be a cowboy, but I don't see him keeping his hat on, or his lasso, or his bandanna, or his vest, and probably even ripping off his chaps. The scene that plays in my head is that he will ask for candy wearing nothing but the arm band that kids need to wear in order to go trick-or-treating, his jeans, shirt and possibly the spurs, as well as his Halloween flash light and trick-or-treating bag.

It was so much easier last year when I just zipped him up in a leopard costume and that was it. As long as I get him to keep the costume on long enough to snap a few pictures I'll consider it a success.

Worn Out

I've realized that Gusi sleeps better at nap time if he's gone outside and done some running around. He likes to "help" our gardener when he can. Today Gusi "worked" quite a bit by watering the plants, grass and vegetable garden. Then he helped sweep up the water that had spilled over. He practically fell asleep as he ate his lunch. I had to still change his diaper before putting him down, but he was snoozed during the entire process. And now, he sleeps.

We'll have to do more gardening again tomorrow!

Doucement

One of the words you hear all the ex-pat moms say to their kids in French is doucement which can mean softly or gently. This is the word of wisdom our gardener gave me as he tried to direct me out our garage for the first time. I was so nervous with the Prado but managed. I've now done it several times. There isn't much to it as long as our gardener helps me. Gusi, luckily, just sits in his car seat, happy to be going somewhere. I enjoy the quiet he provides me as well.

Doucement I will learn more about life in this new country, including how to drive around it.

Wheels

Our car is sitting in the garage at this very moment. Our car! It's brand new and there are still a few things that we didn't realize would be missing. For example, the spare tire cover and the floor mats. We will search around and try to get them soon.

Trying to drive a much bigger car than what we had before will be part of the learning curve. The Toyota Prado we have is quite popular in town but I didn't realize it had a 48 gallon tank!!! At least it's a diesel engine so it's a bit cheaper than gas, but still, I didn't know it was going to be so big. That is a lot of fuel, but then again, the car does weigh almost two tons.

The Prado has that new car smell and Gusi's seat is already in thanks to PapaGus. Tomorrow we will be able to drive. Just amazing.

Mama-itis

It's not just because he's been sick, it's just his newest trend. Gusi now has Mama-itis: an acute onset of needing to be in his Mama's arms without warning but with plenty of screaming. He needs to see me at all times, has to have me next to him at a moment's notice and will throw a fit if I'm not around. The tide has changed. PapaGus has been dethroned. I think he's going through what I was going through a few months ago: feeling like you've been tossed away like an old shoe. Gusi only wants to sit in my lap. If his father tries to set his hand down on my arm or Gusi's leg, Gusi shoves it off and protests. His mama. Only.

While this was cute for a few days, it is now most definitely not. I am not even permitted to go to the bathroom by myself and my showers have moved to night time after he's gone to bed so I can shower in peace. We've been like this for a few weeks and it looks like it will be a while longer. I really think getting out and about after these days of illness and weeks without transportation will help matters. I hope the dealership doesn't take too long with our car.

I Don't Like This Part

I love being a mother. Being Gusi's mom and PapaGus' wife is the best package deal there is out there; I can't imagine being happy without either of them. However, there are parts to this gig that I really don't like. One example is dealing with a sick Gusi.

Last week Gusi was sick with a fever and runny nose. A virus the doctor said. Ok. After he spent the week recovering and getting better he started to develop a cough on Thursday and ran a fever on Friday. His fevers were high, very high and he wasn't getting better with the pain relievers we were giving him. We saw the doctor again Saturday morning, he checked Gusi's ears and said there was a small red spot in one ear, but otherwise he was ok. That night he had his highest fever yet: 103.1 degrees. We called the doctor again and PapaGus said he wanted to do a blood smear to find out if it was malaria that was causing the fevers.

So, just after midnight we climb into a cab to go all the way downtown to the Plateau--the center of town--to search for the 24-hour lab that can do a blood smear for malaria. The ride was incredible for all three of us. Dakar is such a lively city and at night it shows on every street corner. Gusi was excited to see the lighthouse lit up, the planes flying overhead, the moon and the stars. Even though he was miserable, he was so excited to be in a car, driving around at night.

When we finally found the lab we were the only ones there. We filled out some paperwork and were seen almost immediately. They found Gusi's vein without any problem, got the blood and did a QBC test for malaria. We waited in the lobby with a scary movie playing on the tv (I had to ask them to change the channel since Gusi was watching it). Finally they came back: negative. Thank goodness, the best $22 I've spent to fail a test. We got in the cab and came home but the fevers continued through the night.

Today we went back to the doctor's and now he saw an ear infection. Gusi is on the equivalent of acetaminophen and ibuprofen as well as antibiotics. He is tired. We are tired. He is cranky. We are worried. He is getting better a little bit at a time. We are aware that while malaria is preventable and curable, it kills a child every 30 seconds, most of them in Africa. He is smiling. We will take an ear infection over malaria any day.

No one told me it would be easy but I didn't expect to hate this part of parenthood so much. Rocking my son in my arms while he cries to me in pain just doesn't seem fair or pleasant or enough. The bitter may serve to savor the sweet but this is the most bitter part of parenthood so far. Bring on the sweet.

PINCH ME!

I can't believe it. Today PapaGus called to tell me that our car was here. Huh? It's here? After being sans wheels for almost seven weeks, our car is here? After a brief mix up got resolved, PapaGus drove home in our new car which will go to the dealer next week to install everything. All knobs and lights haven't been put in yet, nor has the spare tire so they will do that at the dealership. Then there's the issue of our plates and our papers: insurance papers, registration papers, permit papers, etc. In Senegal we have a list of about seven documents that we need to keep with the car at all times so while the car's at the dealership we'll have time to get all these together.

When the car was successfully parked inside the garage Gusi just smiled at it. He was happier to see his dad home from work but he did dig the car. In just another week he'll be sitting in his car seat in his new car.

Now I can start to worry about driving around town in this crazy traffic. This is the finish line of the Dakar Rally after all!

Must Remember Sunscreen

As I look around at some of the ex-pats that have been here for several years now, I consistently notice one thing: bad skin. So many people look so much older than they actually are. They have enjoyed the beaches, some have learned how to dive, others how to play tennis outdoors and even more have just lounged around the pool and their skin is paying the price.

I brought lots of sunscreen for Gusi, some for us, as well as some moisturizer with sunscreen in it for myself, but I need to use it a lot more often--as well as broad brimmed hats. I don't want skin cancer or premature wrinkles, and I have to keep reminding myself that we are much closer to the equator now than we were before so precautions are a must.

The trick is how to keep Gusi's hat on each time he goes outdoors.

Update on Korite

We have two night guards and both received $10 for Korite (Eid-al-Fitr). The next big Muslim holiday will be Tabaski (Eid-al-Adha) at the end of December. I've been told that Korite is more family oriented whereas Tabaski is all about sharing with family, friends and neighbors and thus a bigger deal. We'll give our guards some cash as well as some food for Tabaski.

It's His Home

What amazes me most these days is the ability my son has to adapt to a complete change in his lifestyle. We are on another continent, speaking another language, with people who dress in other ways and despite all these differences, he is happy.

Each time we come up to our house gate, Gusi always shouts out casa since he knows he is home. I think PapaGus and I are still at that point of feeling we are at our house, but not necessarily our home. It just doesn't feel like a home yet, to me at least, but it does to Gusi. He happily runs all over the house, opens the kitchen cabinet doors, runs to his play room to fish out some toys, and sleeps in his room (most every night) all without much fuss. He has his picky moments, but for the most part they are isolated. He is enjoying himself here and it is apparent. I need to start seeing this adventure through my child's eyes; hopefully that will shine a more positive light on the fact that we still don't have our stuff.

House Call

We had a bit of a scare last night: Gusi had a fever. Normally I wouldn't think twice before reaching for his medicine, but here you have to wonder: could it be malaria? A telltale sign of malaria is a high fever. Of course, I am just getting over some bug that has been going around and apparently this same bug has spread like wildfire among the kids at the International School of Dakar (ISD) who then take it home to their younger siblings and parents (and on to play dates with folks like me in attendance).

Gusi was feeling a bit warm around 2pm but he was his same cheery self. Then around 5pm he was feeling really hot. PapaGus was home and we took his temperature. It was 102. We immediately worried about malaria even though Gusi is taking prophylaxis and sleeps in an air conditioned room. We even have the malaria treatment in syrup form so if Gusi does come down with malaria we have his medicine on hand. But, where would we get a blood smear to make sure he has malaria? And given that I had just come down with a virus (though no fever), I thought it was probable that it was another bug and not malaria. Still, how could you be sure?

We called the US Embassy doctor, who's wife is a friend of mine, and asked where we could take Gusi to get a blood smear on a Friday night during Korite. He said we should just bring Gusi by his house so he could take a look. We explained that we would need to take a taxi since our car isn't here yet (gggrrrrrr) so it could take a while since Dakar is all but emptied out. He told us not to worry, he would stop by the house. Huh? An American doctor making a house call? Well, we do have a small child who is sick and taking a taxi to and from his house would be difficult at best on a night like this, so wow, ok, we'll wait for him to show up.

Show up he did, in shorts, a polo shirt and loafers with a small black satchel in his hand. When we opened the door I had the feeling of being in an old movie with the doctor on my door step. I couldn't help but feel it was some type of outer body experience. He took a look at Gusi's ears, nose and throat and said that it was the same thing going around--everyone is getting it and it's not malaria. No blood smear? No. No waiting in line late at night in a clinic where no one speaks English? No. Wow.

We gave Gusi some more medicine before he went to bed and even though he was feeling a bit punky, he slept pretty well. He woke up at 4am wanting to eat pasta, had some, and then went back to sleep for a few hours. Ironically enough, we are supposed to have dinner tonight at the doctor's house so Gusi will get a follow up visit without us ever having to make an appointment, and therein lies my peace of mind. Somehow life in Dakar seems easier already.

Korite

The end of Ramadan is here: Eid-al-Fitr, also known as Korite here in Senegal. Depending on what sect you are or what religious leader you listen to, it could be Saturday or it could be Sunday. In either case, for all those people fasting in this intense heat, relief is here.

As I see our night guard pray facing Mecca, I wonder what his Korite (Kor-ee-tay) will be like. Is it like our Christmas? Last minute gifts for the family and eating too much? Or is it less materialistic and more time spent with the family?

Most everyone will leave Dakar this weekend to go to their home villages and spend time with their loved ones. While this is usually the time to give folks their holiday bonus, PapaGus and I wonder and debate how to proceed. This is our first Korite and we have only second hand experience regarding holiday bonuses. Do you give your night guard money so he can spend it as he wishes (perhaps even on cigarettes instead of his son's school fees) or do you give him a plump chicken, some rice and some flour (knowing this will at least have a nutritional benefit)?

We ended up getting hit up for a loan last night from one of our night guards. It was for approximately $10, but that's a lot of money here. He wanted the money to pay off the balance he owed a tailor. He had ordered a bou-bou (traditional African long flowing gown) for his wife. It was going to cost him $26 and he had already paid $16 but didn't have the balance. Since our friend Steve was over here on his way back to Gabon, we asked him for his advice. We informed our night guard that we had collectively decided to "all pitch in" to give him the extra $10 he needed but it was a special situation since it was Korite. The danger now is running into becoming a small-loan lender without meaning to. Steve told us plenty of stories last night about all the loans he has made over the years to both his personal staff and the night guards (who are employed by a private company).

So, what about the other night guards we have? I gave the weekend guy some dates which is traditional fast-breaking food, as well as a bowl of pasta and meatballs (that's what we had for dinner). But still, I feel bad that one guy gets the cash and the others may get something they don't need or don't want. PapaGus thinks we should give them the food staples; I am leaning more towards the cash just because the first guy already got it out of us. Sure, they may use it for something totally negligible, but they also may use it to pay off a loan, buy medicine for their kid, or to get a gift for their wife. I know that there are all kinds of studies out there that show that men don't invest in the well-being of their families like women do, but still...these guys are earning about $1/hr, working 12 hour shifts doing incredibly boring work. Wouldn't it be nice if just once in a blue moon they had some pocket money to do as they pleased? I just want to do what is right...and that's where I start chasing my tail it seems.

Spirits Out Back

I just realized that we have two small Baobab trees in our back yard. In Senegal, the Baobab is believed to keep many spirits because it lives many, many years and has many, many uses. In fact, recently on the Corniche (one of the main roads under construction here in Dakar) they had to cut down a Baobab to expand the road. I was told that a special religious leader had to be called to release the spirits to avoid calamity. After that, the road construction continued without hassle from disturbed spirits. So now I wonder, how old are our little Baobabs? What have they witnessed here in this house? Might some spirits be out back without us being aware? If there are, I would think that they are happy with how our gardener is bringing life back to the garden, slowly but surely.

Our First House Guest

Late last night our friend Steve arrived. He is our first official house guest. He and PapaGus used to work together so when we heard that he had a conference in a resort town south of Dakar we told him he should come see us. He ended up getting in around 2am and since we hadn't seen him in a while we chatted until 4am.

Steve lives in Gabon, West Africa with his family so when we told him about our mouse problem he didn't seem to mind. "Get a cat," is what he told us. I explained that Gusi and I are allergic to cats. He told me that he was too, as was one of his children but they had to get a cat to get rid of their mouse problem. He also gave us some good tips on living and traveling in Africa with small children which was helpful.

We got up with Gusi at 6:45am and told him that Steve was here. When he came into the kitchen around 7:30am, Gusi was a rather bit shy but then warmed up to him. Gusi found it easier to call Steve by his name in Spanish: Esteban. And since Esteban also speaks Spanish he and Gusi hit it off right away. Perhaps it's because he remembered when Steve visited us in the US when Gusi was four months old? Probably not, but Steve has a way with kids that is welcoming.

It was nice to have an old friend stop by and chat with us. He'll be coming back again to Dakar later this week taking a flight to Casablanca, Morocco and then on to Gabon, so I'll have to make sure to make something special for dinner that evening. Until then I can say that the guest bedroom has been christened.

Another One Bites the Dust

We realized too late that our traps are actually for rats and not for mice: all the chocolate bait was eaten without so much as a snap. They must have thought that it was chocolate happy hour.

Today we had folks from the housing department come to check out the mice problem. They'll be bringing us some special glue to put down as well as some smaller traps to hide out of Gusi's reach. That is reassuring but they also told us that it would be about a month before all the mice were gone. Great.

When PapaGus came home (Gusi was already asleep) we were getting ready to have dinner together when all of a sudden we saw a mouse in the hallway. I ran to close all the doors to the other rooms to leave the mouse no place but the hallway while PapaGus chased him underneath our crate. (We had a crate brought to our house full of temporary essentials like linens, plates, coffee pots, etc., that sits in our hallway until our own things come and we return the borrowed ones. The crate is massive and heavy.) He then grabbed the umbrella, lifted up the crate, moved it a few inches and dropped it down and was ready to attack. But he had already done the deed. When he dropped the crate as he moved it, it fell on the mouse and killed it. It was easier than he had thought. PapaGus was so proud that he took a picture of his catch. I still cringe at the thought of this Kodak moment. He may not be much of a trapper, but he's a great hunter.

New Habits

Gusi is blossoming into a very loving child. His latest antic is blowing raspberries on us just as we do to him. We go for his belly but to get him to really giggle we do his legs or his back. Now he's learned how to blow them himself and he will blow on any body part that is uncovered by clothes. Today he surprised me and blew a raspberry on my neck. He laughed at the thought of making me laugh. He always loves blowing raspberries on his father and the two can do it for hours on end it seems. The fact that he's learning and imitating is proof that he's growing more and more each day.

Another new habit is what I like to call the blame game. I have no idea how he thought to do this but he has done it. Now, every time he toots (kid-speak for passing gas) and he knows we've heard it, he asks if Mama's done it. I give him a look of shock and say that of course it wasn't me. Then he turns to his father and asks if it was him and he does the same thing. Then we say Gusi did it and he laughs. But every time he toots he wants to blame it on someone else. He's much too clever.

Missing YaYa

Back home Gusi had the best hairdresser. We would go to this salon just for kids. They have a train set, toys and cute little chairs shaped like different cars the kids sit in for their haircuts. We tried other kid salons, but this was the best one we found, plus they had YaYa.

YaYa is great. She was born and raised in the US but her family is from Mexico and she speaks fluent Spanish. She is patient, mild mannered and soothing. She was the perfect hairdresser for Gusi. If he would start to cry during his haircuts, she always had an animal cracker available to calm him down. After that he would start talking to YaYa, mumbling words in Spanish with his mouth full of animal cracker that I then translated. I miss her terribly.

Yesterday afternoon after the pottery class and a nap, our friend Gina told me she was going to get her hair cut at the Lebanese lady's place. I had heard about her having very good prices, knowing how to cut "white people's hair" (that's the tacky way people refer to straight hair here) and also doing children's hair so I asked Gina if we could tag along to get Gusi's hair cut.

The poor boy has been sweating so much here that his hair, though it's not terribly long, just mats down on his head giving him the appearance of a wet seal, just glistening in the sun. So I thought the Lebanese lady would be good to go to, plus I had heard from some moms that they were satisfied with their kids' hair cuts. Boy was I in for a shock. When we got there, Gina got shampooed and Gusi got the booster chair. The Lebanese lady called over an assistant who put a smock on Gusi at which point he began to cry. Then the Lebanese lady and her assistant put Gusi's head in a vice grip between the two of them and proceeded to cut his hair with the buzzers and then scissors for up top. Gusi just kept crying and crying, louder and louder, even calling for YaYa for a while. It was horrible, but before I could say anything they had already done half his head. I endured his crying while they finished and felt so horribly guilty for what I had put him through.

It is hard to explain to people here that you should be delicate with a child--that's just not part of the culture. Infants and toddlers are strapped to their mothers' backs and ignored for most of the day; early childhood development is not a concept that is understood--kind of like oral health I'm noticing. I tried to tell the Lebanese lady that she should let me hold Gusi to calm him down, she said no, that she would be done in a minute. In the end, he calmed down when Gina's driver gave him the key to their car (Gusi loves keys) and the Lebanese lady finished up. The crazy part is that when Gina told her driver to take us back home and then return for her, Gusi started crying Gina's name. He refused to leave without her. Refused. Perhaps he thought that she would be in danger during her haircut so he wanted to keep the group together: strength in numbers.

The haircut looks fine, a bit shorter than I usually like it, but it's done. Next time I will try the more expensive salon at the Hotel Meridien President that has been recommended. Let's see how close to YaYa we can get over there. If not, I'll start cutting his hair myself.

(It turns out the Lebanese lady is third generation Senegalese-born, so her great grandparents were the ones who emigrated. She is very much Senegalese through and through; her skin color is the only thing that is different from other Senegalese.)

Our Hands in Senegalese Clay

Today was an incredibly hectic day. I found out that the American Club was having a Mommy & Me pottery class at 10am but none of my mom-friends were going. So, ever the eager mother to broaden her son's horizons, Gusi and I got ready and hailed a taxi a block from our house. As in most developing countries you need to bargain the price before you get in the taxi. So, even though we were late, I had to bargain. The guy wanted CFA1500 which is just over $3 but I knew that the fair price was CFA1000 ($2) so we ping-ponged back and forth until he smiled and agreed to my price.

The ride was quick since there wasn't much traffic and we made it to the club only to find out we were the only ones to show up for the class. No one else was there. But Ibrahima, the teacher, was kind and got out some clay for Gusi and I. We sat at a plastic table in plastic chairs under the shade of a nearby tree next to the pool. Gusi was a bit distracted from time to time when the kids from the nearby ISD (International School of Dakar) came for their swim class, but he seemed to enjoy himself with the clay. I kept telling him it was like play-dough and we were going to make little shapes.

I noticed that Ibrahima's assistant, Babacar, wasn't speaking much, just rolling the clay and trying to get Gusi to do the same by pointing quite a bit. I asked if Babacar was deaf and Ibrahima said yes. I smiled and told them that Gusi knew some American Sign Language (ASL). They were a bit confused and asked if Gusi was deaf, but finally understood after some explanation on my part that in the US we use ASL for early communication with babies. They were impressed as Gusi signed and spoke, so much so that Babacar made the sign for happy many, many, many times during our 45 minutes together. He just became elated every time Gusi signed.

In the end Gusi made (with the help of Babacar and myself) an imprint of his hand, a fish, a duck that got squashed as Gusi tried to put a hat on it, and a giraffe. Ibrahima will fire these up (minus the squashed duck) at his studio and we'll get a chance to paint them in two weeks. His studio works with deaf and handicapped children and youth in Dakar. He is a patient man and it looks like he will be a good instructor for both Gusi and I.

Ibrahima laughed as he told me that no work would get done this afternoon at his studio since Babacar would spend the whole time telling everyone about how this little hearing-baby from America can sign. I am glad that Gusi is getting exposed to more Senegalese people, especially those as kind-hearted as Ibrahima and Babacar. Perhaps when we get our car we will ask to visit Ibrahima's studio to see the kind of work that he is doing. That would be a great field trip for the both of us.

Not Condoning But Understanding

There's a road that goes by the light house called Rue d'Ouakam (pronounced wah-kam) that has a beautiful scenic view of the ocean. Part of the road passes by a small beach where the fishermen bring in their catch of the day. Gusi always loves to shout barcos or bateaux (boats in Spanish and French) when we pass this part. Just up the road a bit from here as you leave the city, is a small shack. Perhaps an impromptu tent would better describe it. In any case, there lives a man. Homeless is what we would call it back home. Sometimes he wanders the road to direct traffic. Sometimes his door is left open. Sometimes...no...many times...he is completely naked. Now, without trying to make fun of the sad situation, or much less condone it, I can understand why one would want to take one's clothes off in this heat. It's hot and it's Africa, so if someone mentally unstable strips down to their birthday suit...well, frankly, I understand...and I look the other way.

Mice Like Halloween Candy

So...another mouse has surfaced. It got into the Halloween candy my mom sent. I was saving it for the Halloween trick-or-treaters. I will now have several bags minus a few pieces. Let me just say that mice take huge bites out of chocolate, and they seem to like the chocolate and peanut butter combinations.

Today we bought four mouse traps. They have been set with Halloween candy in the dining room and the kitchen. I hope we get 'em.

Cash Based Economies

Even though I have felt a bit weird about carrying around cash all the time, it is necessary for life in Africa. There are a few automatic tellers around town and a few places take credit cards but for the most part, it is a cash based economy. That being said, my credit card bill is just over $100 this month--the lowest it's been since I was a freshman in college. Really. It would have been $0 but I bought a few things on amazon.com which has been great for ordering things that are hard to find here or are simply cheaper online. So, while my wallet may look fat when I go to the supermarket, it seems to be saving me money.

The Hunters Emerge

Today both of the men in my life showed their hunter instincts. I admit I was a grossed out by both episodes.

As Gusi and I were getting ready to go out the morning, I heard him "shoo-flying" in the hallway, that is to say, he was trying to get rid of a housefly and was telling it "shoo-fly" in Spanish. Since I was putting on my shoes to go out the door, I called him over. When he eventually got there, he handed me a small black ball of something. I said thank you and started to examine it. I should have put two and two together. It was a scrunched up small (and I assume slow) housefly. I dropped it immediately and told the house keeper to sweep up in the living room. I was so grossed out. I washed Gusi's hands and my own twice.

Later in the evening, after Gusi was in bed, PapaGus and I were in the kitchen as he had dinner (Gusi and I ate earlier). There are all sorts of weird noises that go on in the house, so many that I've just learned to tune them out. But PapaGus noticed a sound that I hadn't. He leaped out of his chair and began pulling the kitchen cabinets away from the wall (the bottom ones aren't attached to the wall, just the top ones), then he grabbed one of the big kitchen knives and started stabbing at the ground. I was on top of a chair at this point and we were arguing; he wanted me to come down and help him, I refused. When I saw his logic in trapping the mouse I came down and we thought we had it trapped under the freezer (we have a traditional fridge/freezer and a very large deep freezer as well), but it had disappeared into thin air. Poof! We cleaned up, started putting food that was in plastic bags into plastic storage containers (of which I now need a lot more) and washing dishes. Then we moved to our usual spots: me on the couch in the living room, PapaGus to the dining room table, both of us on our computers. After a while PapaGus jumps out of his seat again. He eventually traps the mouse in the hallway, again, arguing with me to do my part. At least I didn't hesitate as much this time. We had the mouse trapped. I threw one of PapaGus's shoes down to block the path while PapaGus chased him in my direction. And then with the end of our umbrella it was done. One mouse down, who knows how many to go.

I was a reluctant team player today, I fully admit it. I have realized I am much more comfortable being a gatherer; the hunting will be left to the men in this family.

Dipping His Toes

Today was the first time Gusi bathed in the Atlantic Ocean. For weeks now he's been seeing the ocean as we drive along the Corniche, one of the main roads here in Dakar that is so lovely since you are right next to the ocean. And right after we got here, he also got to go rock hopping ocean-side at a restaurant not too far from the house. But today he got to go to one of the nice beaches, strip down to his swimming diaper and play in the ocean. He loved it. LOVED IT. We even saw some hermit crabs and sea snails which made the adventure all the more exciting. Amazing how this city grows on you when you see it through a child's eyes.

African Wildlife

Even though we are not in a safari country, I have read that many animals abound in Senegal. Giraffes, impalas, rhinos, monkeys, hippos and the list goes on. What I did not expect was the abundance of wildlife that I would find in our own home. One of the night-shift guards saw a snake in our yard. Not good. The number of mosquitoes in our back yard resembles those one would find in a swamp; many get into the house. This makes me incredibly nervous since they could be potentially carrying malaria. There are also lots of flies; a nuisance but not worrisome. And finally, as of almost two weeks ago, a mouse or perhaps mice. Yes, our first encounter with the wild has been a very daring mouse (or mice) in our kitchen. I've called and written the folks who assigned us this house and they have said it is on their work order list. Uh huh. And in the meantime? The mouse seems to like the potatoes he found in one corner of the kitchen. Should I just set it out in the middle of the room for him while we wait for the exterminators? Or perhaps I should bring in the snake to rid myself of the mice problem. I might just get that safari experience in my own home after all.

Just Like Christmas

We had six boxes arrive today. We have ordered several things over the internet and had them shipped to an address in the US that then gets forwarded to Senegal. This is life saving. I've ordered powdered soy milk, pancake mix and other things that I either can't find here or are incredibly expensive.

One box was from my mom. She is always thinking ahead and sent some size 3T clothes for Gusi. She takes advantage of the end of season sales back home and Gusi has some clothes ready for his next growth spurt. Thanks mom.

Another box was from our friends Brooke and Henry. Gusi and Henry became friends through a gym class that they both attended--probably due to the fact that Brooke and I are both from Louisiana and we became friends. They sent us some great Halloween treats that we will share with our new friends in Dakar. Thanks Brooke and Henry.

While it's great to be able to order things over the internet, we're also very aware that we should buy locally if we can. There's the bit about being environmentally responsible that is mixed in with trying to help local merchants. If what we're ordering is of similar quality and marginally more expensive, I have no problem with buying it locally, but when it is incredibly more expensive and worse quality, I have to follow my pocket book and go global. Such is life in the modern age.

Ask Me Tomorrow But Not Today

Everyone we meet who knows of our brief time here always asks us how we like Dakar. It's really hard to answer this question. First of all we have only been here three weeks. Hardly enough time to judge a place where you will be living for perhaps three or four years. Plus, we don't have our car yet, our circle of "friends" barely exists and we are living in a house without our things.

Very difficult to judge a place given these circumstances. Though I will say that a number of picayune things about life here are intriguing. For example, chickens are expensive and small. Let me elaborate. We bought two chickens at the grocery store yesterday for $9 each and they were tiny compared to American standards. By tiny I mean even the free range, antibiotic-free chickens in the US look mammoth next to these guys. I read one review online of an ex-pat living in Dakar who said that chickens here were the size of sparrows. This is no hyperbole. Gusi can put away almost half a baked chicken by himself and still have room for veggies and fruit.

Another example is the number of keys a house has. We have a front gate key, two garage door keys, two keys for the front door, two keys to the side door, another key to the door that leads to the kitchen, keys for each door in the hallway, keys for each bedroom, keys for each closet, a key for each kitchen cabinet and pantry, even a key for each bathroom door and so many more that I get a headache just thinking about it. When I hold just half of these keys in my hand I feel like a prison warden. I don't dare try to hold all of them since I'll just mix them all up and be up a creek without a paddle.

Finally, almost everyone's home has a special mat to take your shoes off once you enter the house. There are house shoes (e.g., flip flops) and there are outdoor shoes. We have a small corner close to the front door but I like the mat idea quite a bit and will have to look into it. And everyone just takes off their shoes when they come to your house without you having to ask them. I thought this custom would be more applicable to Asia but am realizing that in Africa with all the dirt and mud, it's actually a good idea. Gusi is now learning to balance on one foot while holding on to my shoulders so I can take his shoes off when we come in.

There are so many big things that highlight this new culture, but I feel it is the nuances, the small things of daily living that impact me the most. Perhaps when I no longer notice them I will be more settled. Then you can ask me how I like Dakar.

Chocolat Pain Makes It All Better

The good news is we got our air freight today. It was like Christmas for me: boxes and boxes to be unwrapped and enjoyed. We managed to get almost everything sorted and put away and somehow I felt disappointed that it was all over. I mean, most of our things are on a boat somewhere, so it was quite a tease to get this first (mini) shipment. Compare 450lbs of household goods that we got today with 7,000lbs+ that we'll be getting in a couple of months and you'll see why I feel teased. Still, it's better than nothing and I'm happy that Gusi now has most of his toys.

The bad news is that we will have the generator running non-stop for a second night in a row. Last night there was a black-out in our neighborhood and when the fuel guy came buy to refill our generator, we had consumed 41 liters of fuel overnight. And tonight, just as I was preparing to give Gusi something for dinner, the lights went out in part of the house. Only one part. Apparently in many (developing) countries the power is divided into three parts as it comes into the house. Thus, if there is an outage in only one part of the city power, you will still have power in two other parts of your house. So this is what happened. Unfortunately, the part that went out was also the part that powers our water pump so we had no running water in the house for a while. We called the maintenance number and a guy was out here in no time. He's hooked up the generator manually to power the house so we can have running water (and air conditioning in our bedroom, overhead lights in the kitchen, ceiling fans in three rooms, etc). And so we will hear the all too familiar humming of the generator going tonight as well.

Finally, more good news is that when PapaGus got home from work this evening he had stopped by a bakery and had two baguettes and a bag full of pain au chocolat and croissants with him. Yumm. I don't know who invented the croissant or who was the genius that decided to put some chocolate pieces in it, but today I thank them as this is the best pain I could be in.

A Long Month Ahead

Ramadan has begun. Normally, this would pass beneath my radar back in the US but here it is quite noticeable. I am told the streets are not so crowded nor are the people so lively. It must be hard to be lively if you are fasting for the entire day for an entire month.

PapaGus was asked by a Senegalese colleague if he planned to fast for Ramadan to which he responded that he wasn't Muslim. He was told by his colleague that it would be impolite to eat or drink in front of his Muslim co-workers (around 90% of Senegalese are Muslim) so PapaGus readily agreed that it would not be appropriate and he would fast in solidarity with his co-workers. Keep in mind, this means no food or drink and in this heat that is tough. (Also, no smoking or having sex so kids born in late June 2008 will be quite suspect.)

PapaGus came home that evening to eagerly tell me that we could not eat during the daylight hours of Ramadan. I reminded him that we are not Muslim and he told me of his encounter at work. I thought about it and saw he had a point. We are in this country to experience a new culture and it would be rude to be chomping on a baguette in front of others who cannot do so. I commended him for his commitment and enthusiasm but told him that Gusi could under no circumstances participate in Ramadan. Of course he agreed. Apparently there are some exceptions to Ramadan which include: children under the age of 12; the elderly; the sick; pregnant women; nursing women; travelers; and according to some, those who are "unpure" (read: menstruating). We agreed that eating or drinking while out of the house should be kept to a minimum but inside the house was ok.

Granted, this is our intent at keeping a solidarity with our host countrymen, yet I still wonder how many other ex-patriates will participate. PapaGus mentioned to me that Friday he saw many American colleagues happily munching away at their desks, completely oblivious of what they were doing. I think this will be a long month for all of us.

Don't People Know It's Hot?

We have joined a play group which looks promising in so much as the moms are from all walks of life as are the children. When we went last week to one mother's house she had everything set up outside. The sun was blazing and it was hot. Africa hot. Not a single cloud in the sky. (I should mention that Senegal is a Muslim country so it is not appropriate to wear shorts out in public. Ladies can wear long skirts, dresses and pants which means you are inevitably going to be hot if you are out in the sun. Blouses should also be modest and not expose too much skin.)

While I was most concerned with keeping Gusi hydrated, I kept wondering why in the world are we outside? Everyone is sweating, everyone is red. Am I not getting something here? Even if there is no air conditioning inside, it will still be better than being in the blazing sun.

Then today we went to a birthday party. Again, it was sweltering hot and they held the party outside. At least they had a sprinkler pool set up for the kids to wade in. I had to control the urge to jump in there with them. And as if the sweltering adults weren't enough proof of the heat, the ice cream should have been. The cake and ice cream were brought out at the same time and while we sang happy birthday and sliced the cake, the ice cream melted. Completely. It looked like soup by the time it was opened.

I can see folks not wanting a bunch of kids running around their house, but still, a fan outside would have been nice. Am I the only one noticing the emperor has no clothes?

My Connexion to the World

We are now up and running with our DSL.

Alhamdulillah which translates roughly as "thank God" is the most appropriate word right now (plus it is painted on almost every bus on the road here in Dakar so I've learned how to spell it faster than I had imagined). After almost two weeks of brief encounters with the web kind, we now have DSL.

I was craving this almost as much as my air freight which, coincidentally, will hopefully arrive next week. Now all I need are wheels.

The Rabbit Hole

Some days I have the distinct feeling of being somewhere totally strange and unusual. It is unlike the reality that has been my life since Gusi came along.

In Africa people wait for the rainy season. They wait and wait and pray and pray that the rains will come. Their crops, and thus their livelihood, depend on it.

PapaGus, Gusi and I found ourselves on the other side of the coin--or rather inside the rabbit hole--last weekend. We took a taxi to a grocery store a few miles from our house. A few minutes after we started shopping it started to pour. I mean P-O-U-R down. Gusi was mesmerized; PapaGus was unfazed; I was bewildered. How long would this last? After what seemed like an eternity we decided that it was time to return to the house; the rains would not let up any time soon so we would have to brave the growing tide outside the shop. We were wise enough to buy some plastic flip-flops at the store in order to save our shoes from virtual ruin. We rolled up our pant legs and then proceeded to wade in ankle-deep water to our impatient taxi. The attendant at the grocery was kind enough to hold an umbrella over our heads while walking the six feet to the taxi, but still we got drenched. All I could think of was all the waste floating in that water, the water I was wading in unwillingly. How could these rains be a blessing when they had the potential to transmit so many diseases?

Today it still makes my stomach turn to think about it, but the reality is that urban planning does not exist in many developing countries so cities are left without sewage systems or proper drainage. When it rains, there's no where for the water to go so you end up with small floods in low-lying areas like at the grocery store. (I should have suspected something when I saw the sandbags at the entrance to the shop.)

I'm sure there were many happy farmers outside of Dakar that day. I, however, felt as if I were living a passage from Lewis Carroll's book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."

And so since I've come here, I might as well take a swig from that bottle that says DRINK ME and a bite of that cake that says EAT ME. It couldn't hurt. Could it?

Finding My Way

I am having to learn a lot more than new vocabulary these days. I have to learn an entire new system. For example, our house doesn't have a street nor an address. I can say who our neighbors are or perhaps, eventually, how to get here, but that means nothing to the moving company shipping all of our things over. So how does one communicate one's new location? By either one of two methods.

For those in the ex-pat community you refer to the previous tenants. For example, you are the Johnsons but the house was previously occupied by the Williams' so your address would be your neighborhood, Johnson X (as in ex- or former) Williams. Or you can give your neighborhood, then your parcel #, your zone # and your house #. This seems to be what the movers wanted though no one else in Dakar would have an idea of how to get here based on that. And as far as I know MapQuest and GoogleMaps don't work for Dakar.

So what happens if you are new to Dakar and have never been to the Johnson X Williams house but need to get there? You give the kind of directions that can only be given in a developing country. Example: take the airport road, turn right at the pharmacy next to the French butcher, then first left onto dirt road, and we're the fourth gate on your left, if you pass the woman at the fruit stand you've gone too far. One would reasonably ask several questions here: isn't the airport road pretty long with perhaps many pharmacies on it? What is the name of the pharmacy? How will I know it's a French butcher and not a Senegalese butcher? What if the fruit stand isn't there? What if it's a man at the fruit stand the day I go? Yet somehow there is only one spot on the airport road where a pharmacy and a butcher shop co-exist side by side, so you assume it's a French one; and the woman at the fruit stand will always be there and she'll probably even point you to the gate/garage you're looking for. Amazing, but it works once you figure out the main roads and the road to the airport is always a main road.

Gusi will surely be bewildered by all the organization there is in the US when we go back for vacation. I can already tell this experience is going to enhance my creative juices more than I could have ever imagined.

Still Not Enough

Ok, just a quick post for those of you following the saga. We took off from the US to Senegal with three tickets in hand for each family member, 12 pieces of checked luggage, a car seat and a stroller that were gate checked, and 7 carry-ons (we smuggled one on board). And of course after a few days of being here I realize that it is still not enough! No. What am I missing? My pots and pans, my linens (which are all coming in a few weeks...so they say), the second set of shower curtain hooks for Gusi's bathroom (both full baths have separate showers and bath tubs and so each bathroom needs two shower curtains), shower curtains for our bathroom, hangers, a decent cutting board, speakers to hook up our iPods to, magazines and books, our car and so much more.

But on the lighter side, taking taxis around town has been an adventure. Gusi and I took one to the American Club today for a play group that we got wind of just this morning. Gusi was chanting "Calle, calle" ("street, street", what he says when he wants to go out for a spin) the whole way there. It was rather amusing explaining to our driver that Gusi was happy to get out and about; and it entertained us as we zig-zagged through traffic and back roads with Gusi's chanting going on...already making friends in his new home.

More details to come later about the actual trip here. We're still waiting on getting our high speed internet hooked up. It should take another week. In sh'allah as they say.

A Room with a View

Gusi loves the hotel we're staying at. We're up on the 14th floor (which is really the 13th since I noticed they failed to have a #13 floor) and we have a great view of the city. Gusi loves sitting in the big windows which come almost all the way down to the floor. He can rest his elbows on the ledge and stare out at the city.

This morning as the car pool left with my mom and PapaGus, I remained behind with Gusi. I needed to shower and since he seemed quite content munching on his bagel while checking out the view, I just slipped away without a fuss. After I got out I saw that he was still quietly standing there but the bagel was on the floor. Somehow, there were still smacking sounds coming out of his mouth. I walked up to him to see what he was eating. It was the little chocolate that they had left on the bed from the turn-down service the night before. And it was still in its wrapper. Amazing how a little bit of paper and foil are not a hindrance when dealing with chocolate. I laughed, asked him if I could unwrap the chocolate for him and gave him the rest of the little square chocolate. He agreed that it tasted better this way as he turned back toward the window quite content with a "peeled" chocolate in his hand.

The Calm After the Storm

Except for our piles of luggage and the few things in the fridge which will be taken to my mom's this evening, our house is empty. It is strange to walk in there. The movers have taken everything and parceled our belongings into air freight, sea freight and storage. We have the clothes on our backs and in our suitcases. Not much else.

Papa's car was sold and since my mom is getting my car, her car was sold too. There are three adults and one child carpooling in one car for the next day and a half. Everyone feels rather stranded I think.

The thing of it all is that I've been planning for this week for months now. I've sorted through boxes in the attic. I've bought lots of new clothes, toys and shoes to take with us. I made the reservations for our hotel room. I planned for everything up until Friday. And now I find myself quite uncertain of what is possible to do on Saturday when we arrive in Dakar. Unpack I suppose. Clean up around the house if that hasn't been done already. Call one of the housekeepers that has come highly recommended to see if she can stop by so we can interview her. And then what? Sunday we will have brunch at our host family's home. Perhaps start exploring our neighborhood after that? Figure out how to start our life in French? I'm just not sure what comes next and that is rather unsettling. I will just try to take Gusi's lead; make sure he's got what he needs and try to find him some entertainment for the daily routine.

For the rest of the day I think Gusi and I will just chill at the pool.

Moving Ahead?

I hate moving. I should probably see it as a time to purge all needless things. Instead today I have seen it as a time to learn how to juggle.

Gusi is not happy to go back to the house these days. He'll stay on the front porch or in the back yard but screams when he goes inside. I can't blame him; I want to do the same thing. The packers in the meantime need to know what goes by air freight, by ship and what stays in storage. Friends are calling to see how things are going. Gusi wants a snack. The packers tell me that we're over our limit on our air freight by more than 150lbs. Gusi's nap time is here. My husband hands me an insurance sheet to fill out for our shipped goods. Gusi wants grapes. My tummy is growling. We take refuge at the hotel where his nap is cut short so we can grab a bite to eat before the restaurant closes. And so, we go back home. Exhausted. This is when I would love to have the ability to be in two places at the same time. One of me would be napping or playing with the baby while the other would be working with the packers to get things done. If only it were more than a dream.

So Incredibly Lucky

I had a wonderful weekend. Gusi had a wonderful weekend. My best friends from home came to town for the weekend to wish us bon voyage. Not only did my friends come, but their families came too. See, the thing is, I've grown up with Heather and Erin since I was a little girl. Being that I'm an only child, they are the closest things I have to sisters, so their moms, kids and sisters are like my own. Our moms are great friends and hopefully our kids will be great friends as time passes.

Gusi did great with all the kids running around the house and getting into his toys. The house looked like there was a rally going through it. I believe Gusi was taking bets on the Kawasaki 4-wheeler vs. the fire engine with odds favoring the fire engine. I'm sure I saw money changing hands.

On Saturday our friends helped us take stuff down from the attic and shift things from our house to my mom's and other things from her house to ours. That afternoon we had Gusi's music teacher come and do a sing-along (plus we invited some of Gusi's regular playmates to join us). He absolutely loved it. He was so happy. All the kids seemed to enjoy themselves that afternoon filled with songs and pizza and play. For me it was a bit tearful. I knew it meant that moving into the hotel and out of our house was around the corner, and that meant that moving to our new house was also right around the corner. So much change.

I know all of this change (i.e., the boxes piled high in the dining room) is not going unnoticed on Gusi's part. He has been waking up at 4am or 5am every morning screaming and trembling. I go in to get him and he spends the rest of the morning snuggled in our bed, (usually) fast asleep. This is not routine and he is frightened. We've taken (as of today) the position of calling everything new una aventura so he senses that all of this is supposed to be fun. Of course it isn't fun when mom spends most of the day packing things and dad is out running last minute errands, but it does seem to cheer him up when we proclaim that adventure is within our grasp.

The change is also affecting me. My two best friends in the world will now be across the world. My son's best friends will be across the ocean. My husband's family so far away. My support system, my strength, my mom no longer in the same neighborhood. And then I remember...this is an adventure, a once in a lifetime chance to see and do and feel something totally new; it's a great opportunity for my son. If I could only pack up everyone that was in my home Saturday afternoon and take them with me. Then it would be easier.

As I said good-bye to friends who know my weaknesses and still love me, who know the tough times I've had and have stood by me, who love my husband and child simply because I do, I thought to myself: I'm the luckiest person in the world to have so many wonderful people helping me turn the page to the next chapter in my life. So incredibly lucky.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

We got back from Guatemala a few days ago. Gusi had a blast. Everyone had a blast. It was incredible to go and see the family one last time before heading off on our African adventure. Gusi had a huge terrace to run around with a hammock hung up for when he got tired. He wasn't too happy having to sleep in the Pack-n-Play but he adjusted eventually. He loved having company come over and in any respectable Latin family, you always have people dropping by. He was quite social with everyone and wanted to be where the action was.

He has also blossomed into this little chatter box. He started saying his (first) name while we were there (in the last two days he has been able to say his first and last name), as well as pronouncing everyone else's name.

What I loved about being in Guatemala was that everywhere we went it was set up for kids. There were play yards in restaurants and stores. People didn't give me nasty looks (like they do here) when Gusi started squealing. Everyone complemented me on how beautiful and intelligent he is. Everyone! I was waiting in line at the bakery close to our house and Gusi was chatting with the woman behind us. She couldn't get over his vocabulary. She even said "hello" and he responded in English to her. The boy is a genius: mastering two languages before the age of two and knowing when to use each one. And soon we'll add on another one, maybe even two depending on how much Wolof he hears on a daily basis.

We were very sad to leave though. Gusi still asks about his great-uncle and our neighbor Sandra every day. Everyone teared up when we said our good-byes because this little one had brought so much happiness to them. I know they will miss him and he them. I just pray that we'll be able to go back soon. He will be surrounded by French (and some English) in just a few short weeks; I will be the only native Spanish speaker he hears until my mom comes to visit or we return to Guatemala. I know it will enrich him beyond my own expectations, but still, I worry about his maternal tongue getting pushed to the side.

Jolly Green (Bean) Giant

Gusi loves green beans. Hmm. Let me rewrite that. Gusi LOVES green beans. Yesterday that is all he would eat. At lunch he helped himself to 3 servings of that and nothing else. Later he wanted some grapes. Dinner was only pleasant after green beans were put on display. Perhaps it is a "g" diet? I shouldn't complain, I know, but how can a child live off of green beans alone? Ok, and grapes. But still???

Walk a Mile in His Pajamas

I've managed to finish the last Harry Potter book--which, by the way, I thought was very dark and questioned myself how old Gusi would have to be before I let him read it. I've also managed to read another book that had been on my shelf for a while now: The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne. It is the story of a nine year old boy named Bruno and a fence. A very scary fence that bifurcates and keeps out the Outs and in the Ins. I won't say more for fear that I would give too much away. However, Boyne has done such an amazing job in his writing that as I turned every page I couldn't help but think of Gusi as Bruno.

This is definitely one book that I will want Gusi to read when he gets older. Boyne apparently has a children's version which would be a good start to the subject matter. It will be appropriate to read when Gusi starts recognizing that life is not always what it seems. Or perhaps it is a good book to read even if you're an adult and need to be reminded not to take things for granted lest you find yourself wondering what side of the fence you are really on.

We Are Family

My parents-in-law and two sisters-in-law were in town for a few days. They got to see Gusi and he got to see them. I was really happy to see that he took to them quite easily. He was, of course, drawn to his Grandpa for many of the same reasons he's drawn to his father: they both let him do just about anything. It was obvious though that Grandpa needs to move closer to us to stay in better Grandpa-shape since 30 minutes with Gusi had him worn out. Gusi would of course love to have another version of his dad around all the time so we're hoping Grandpa and Grandma visit us in Senegal soon.

I can't help but realize how incredibly similar the three generations of Grandpa, Papa and Gusi are. It's uncanny to see each of them trying to figure something out: they each get this look on their face like nothing but extreme concentration will do. Grandma and Aunties Megan and Beth were loads of fun too, especially when we went out to dinner and they were each entertaining him at the restaurant.

I just hope that Gusi gets to see his family as much as possible after we move to Africa.

Faster Than a Speeding Pilobolus

I spent three days in New York City this past weekend without Gusi or PapaGus. It was the first time since I got pregnant that I have been on my own like this. I actually rather enjoyed it. PapaGus took Friday off to stay with Gusi and from what I gather, they had a blast. A wet rug in the living room and a suspiciously placed hose are all the proof I need for the fun they had.

I, meanwhile, had a blast myself. I got a chance to eat at restaurants without high chairs in them. I got to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and see new pieces that I hadn't seen before. I got to window shop along 5th Avenue. I got to walk over 50 blocks in Manhattan just for the fun of it. And I got to see a show. Actually, that was the highlight of the weekend (aside from seeing my friends). My friend and I saw Pilobolus, a modern dance group with incredible acrobatics thrown in to every routine.

Did I miss Gusi? Sure I did. I missed reading him books and kissing him goodnight, but it was rather nice to have some time off from being a mom. Of course I called home and PapaGus and Gusi called me, but hearing them didn't make me as upset as I thought it would. I came back home refreshed and ready to set out on our new adventures in Africa. I just can't get over the fact that three days went by so fast. The countdown to Dakar will probably go just as fast.

Harry vs. David

Yes, I bought the new Harry Potter book the day it came out. Yes, I've read the six previous ones. Yes, I started to read the new book the same day I got it. No, I didn't finish it. After Gusi went to sleep, I decided a nice dinner out with my husband was more of a priority than reading. Then when we got home I could have read but I wanted to watch the LA Galaxy vs. Chelsea game instead. I watched the game, the first one in which David Beckham played with his new team. I was disappointed that he didn't get to play but a few minutes at the end. I was even more disappointed that they lost to Chelsea. I have read more of the new book, but I would put it down in a heartbeat to see Beckham play again. I suppose Beckham's injury and down time will allow me to concentrate on Harry for a while.

And So The Doughnut Crumbles

I've learned a few things about parenting a toddler so far.

1. It takes a toddler a while to learn to like something new like cous-cous.
2. Once a toddler learns to like cous-cous, he also wants to feed it to himself.
3. After the toddler gets his hands on the spoon, you will be sweeping cous-cous up at least four times before everything is clean.
4. When the toddler gets up from his chair there will be cous-cous under his legs and tush.
5. Later, when the toddler is in his bedroom playing, he will scratch behind his ear and more cous-cous will fall.
6. It is not easy to feed a toddler a doughnut in the back seat at red lights when you are driving.
7. Giving the toddler a chunk of doughnut to feed himself will result in crumbs wedging themselves and disintegrating into the fibers of his car seat.
8. Even if you try to hide your frozen cappuccino drink from the toddler, he will see it or perhaps hear you gulp and will scream like a banshee since you won't give him any. At this point, the doughnut is no longer interesting; nor are the crumbs.
9. Driving in a car with a screaming, crumb-laden toddler while zig-zagging through traffic can cause a headache and the frozen cappuccino drink is of little consolation to you.
10. When you get home and shake off the doughnut crumbs from the toddler's t-shirt, pick the remaining cous-cous grains off of your bare feet and sit down at the computer to write, he will decide it is time to be irresistible and will tip-toe around you until he climbs in your lap and gives you hundreds of kisses.