Mmmmmmm....cookies

First cookies. Baking, that is. I decided that baking cooking would be a good idea last night. I wanted to do them quickly and cheat using Bisquick, but Greg convinced me to do them from scratch. I am glad I did, because I had a little helper this time. I swear, these are the best cookies I ever made, because Sofia helped make them.




She held the measuring cups for me while I poured.









She stirred the batter.




She poured in the chips.




And put them on the tray




And at every turn, asked when we could eat the cookies. She got excited towards the end, when the chocolate was added and kept picking out chips to eat. She even stuck the whole spoon in her mouth at one point. Yep, that's my kid.

The finished product:




Enjoying her first cookies:

Yeah, what she said

"I da man"

-Sofia J., after learning to change the channel.

Good luck with the unlearning.

The Sofia Declaration

Our girl said this in the car last night as we were driving south from Canton to Unionville:

"I'm Sofia! I'm a big girl.!"

We hold this truth to be self-evident.

things are looking up

Here's Sofia and Daddy hanging out in the back yard, looking at planes and clouds and stuff.


Funny, we have all kinds of toys and books and stuff for the girl to play with, and she does ... but we seem to have the most fun when we're just being silly, like running laps around the yard or making funny faces in the mirror. Daddy in particular, being silly, is good at this: there's a basketball game where they make a hoop, then run laps around the basket, then do high fives, low fives and fist pounds. It makes her laugh .. and we love that laugh.

First haircut

My baby's growing up so fast.

We went to Snip-its, and our hair-cutter was Dora (yeah, you think that was her real name?) Sofia acted like she she was an old hand at getting her cut. I was so proud of her. Of course, I took pictures.



Before


Noticing the video


Ok, I am not too sure about this, mama.


Tell her not to take too much off the sides, mm-kay?


And not too much off the top either.


A happy customer!

She made me proud today (She does everyday, usually.) I started to get teary eyed when Dora was cutting Sofia's hair. As I was watching, I could see her as a teen and then as an adult and then back to when she was a baby again. It was weird. And amazing.

Reading?

She did it again. She totally surprised me with her brilliance. And if I didn't have witnesses and a video, I don't think anyone would believe me. OK, I don't really think she is reading, but she did only hear one reading of this particular book before she decided to give it a go.

And now for the star of the show:


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Sofia On The Road

July has been a month of travel – at least so far. Not much of it very far, unless you consider Adams, Mass. the ends of the earth. (Some do.)

On July 3rd we packed up Lola Corolla and headed north from the Nutmeggiest State to the Berkshires for a few days of Independence Day-themed fun and games. Brother Mike and Brother Justin were both going to be home and it shaped up to be a good time.

And it was!

The morning of July 4th we headed south from Adams to Pittsfield for the annual Fourth of July parade. We meandered over to the vicinity of North and Summer streets and took in the festivities. For the uninitiated, North Street is the main drag in Pittsfield’s downtown and its slow, steady decay over the decades continues to be the source of much debate, hand-wringing and I-told-you-so, we should have (insert simplistic solution here) finger wagging.



I was surprised that we were able to put up our lawn chairs for a curbside seat at 9:30 a.m. as the 5K Independence Day Run got going. That never would have been possible before.

The girls loved the parade, as you can see.

Three cheers for the red white and blue!



Alyssa and Sofia get a closer look at the festivities.



We're not lion -- Sofia loved this balloon.



The ladies share an umbrella and a chair.



Me? Well … to be certain Pittsfield is a different place than it was in the 70s and 80s and I’m not a kid anymore. And I wonder if it’s just me … if it’s a case of things seeming bigger and better in my memory because they were more impressive in the eyes of the young. But I don’t think so. Back in the day there would be several top-flight drum corps and marching bands in the lineup, a number of creative floats and North Street would be five or six deep all the way up the route. Even the small details, like banner-holders wearing matching outfits and smiling on the route, were paid attention in those days. It was a big deal and people treated it as such.

This year, there were more politicians and would-be office-holders than there floats or bands. (I think I’m the only one not running for state senate.) As many participants in the thing sulked as smiled.

Are we having fun yet?



I’m sorry, my home town, it was lame. But I squashed the temptation to yell “This is all your fault!” at the Mayor and City Council when they marched by. But Sofia and Alyssa loved it and in the end that's what matters.

After the parade we headed over to the Sukiennik compound and had a great little cookout, complete with ribs, beans and the annual batch of Sangria … mmmmm. And we walked down the street to see our friends the Conrys and caught up with them. They’re doing well.

Grandpa, Sofia and Uncle Mike share some quality time watching the ribs cook.



Dad and Sofia with Uncle Mike. Sofia is wearing a pretty dress that Aunt Corrine bought her! Aunt Corrine .. she sure knows style.



Sofia shares a moment with Uncle Justin.



That night we headed over to see Michelle’s Italian aunties, Nina and Giovanina, and her cousins, which is a great vantage point from which to see the fireworks from Wahconah Park. It seemed every house in the Onota Street neighborhood had its own fireworks .. not just piddly Roman candles mind you, but exhibition-quality fusillades of color. It was sensory overload .. as if the neighborhood was under attack. Nina and Giovanina were both doing well and as gracious as ever with their constant offers of food and drink. They also hugged and kissed Sofia to pieces and taught her a few Italian phrases, like “I’m a pretty girl.” ( bella something or other, I don’t recall.)

On Thursday, we headed to Mystic for a daycation at Mystic Aquarium and Mystic Seaport.

“I see a whale.”

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Sofia had a marvelous time at penguin feeding time and looking at all the sea creatures in the aquarium, some of which she recognized from a book on the seashore that last long been a favorite of hers. That was pretty neat.

Mom and Sofia check out the wildlife.



Sofia sees a penguin swimming! (In the water, on the left.)



Sofia, meet Ray. Ray, meet Sofia.



Then we went to Mystic Seaport, a museum of life and the oceans in the 19th Century (which makes sense since Mystic was a major seaport at that time). Sofia loved looking at and climbing aboard all the different kinds of ships of that era – schooners, whalers, etc .

Well shiver me timbers! Avast ye scurvy dogs!



Some old salts never do get used to life on land.



The museum also had plenty of nautical-themed fun for kids, which she enjoyed as well.

Sofia observes the Magnusen Act and adheres to strict catch limits.



"I was riding on the Mayflower when I thought I spied some land ..."



"Look on over yonder, cut the engines change the sails."



"I got back and ripped the parking ticket off the mast..."



"I asked the captain what his name was and how come he didn't drive a truck, he said his name was Columbus, I just said 'good luck.'"


(preceding four quotes from "Bob Dylan's 115th Dream" by Bob Dylan.)

We capped our trip with a meal at Bill's Seafood in Westport, a "cute little seaside town" as Michelle said. The girl was very well behaved and so we rewarded her with the best of all possible rewards .. chocolate ice cream.



The epitome of satisfaction: a face full of chocolate.

Flights of Fancy: The Trip to Carolina

There’s a first time for everything in the life of a little boy or girl.

That first big trip. First Christmases and Halloweens and Easters and birthdays. First night away from home. First bike ride.

These occasions are often cause for a party and photographed for posterity.

Then there’s that first trip on an airplane – an occasion less celebrated than endured.

No one knows exactly how a two-year-old is going to react to being seated for hours in a flying tin can with pressure building up in his or her ears. Do you dose the kid with Benadryl and hope it knocks him out – instead of cranking him up? Will he scream or cry and not go to sleep? Or worse – will he barf on the passengers in the next row?

There’s no way to know except put ‘em on the plane and see what happens.

So we did. We bought our tickets and headed south to Black Mountain, North Carolina, near Asheville, for the Lake Eden Arts Festival, or LEAF, the twice-yearly world music and arts festival that Sofia’s uncle Leigh helps run. Members of our family have been going down to help out for years now and raved about how much fun it is and how much there is for children to see and do, so it seemed like a natural.

Of course, I worried. Because that’s what I do. And as usual it was all for nothing.

We pulled into Bradley International Airport at about 9 a.m. for our 10:10 flight to Charlotte, with a connection to Asheville.

After they made us take off our shoes – good thing for all of us I wore my boots instead of my biohazard sneakers – we started our walk through the terminal to the gate. Sofia started to push her Barbie suitcase until I taught her how to use the handle and wheels to pull it behind her. So she did … and I must have seen and heard it at least 10 times from folks in the terminal, gushing “oh look, how cute.”

Yup, that’s my girl.

She did not want to sit still in the terminal, twice nearly running into the tunnel that led to the plane headed for Pittsburgh. And we all know what happened the last time she went to Pittsburgh. No, she’s never been to Pittsburgh. Just Pittsfield.

Then again, having a little one means when they call “anyone with families or needing assistance” to board the plane first, for the first time I stepped to the counter and said “that would be us.” Membership does have its rewards. Ooh yeah.

Once we had that confounded child seat strapped down, had our table trays in the upright position and our seat backs fully forward, we were ready to go … and it went great. Naturally I clutched my late great grandmother’s Mass book – you know the one, leather bound, gilded pages, in the original Polish -- during take offs and landings, because a little extra divine assistance never hurts.

Sofia looked out at the window and enjoyed her flight to Charlotte immensely.

Once on the ground in Charlotte we headed for our connecting flight to Asheville. I was glad to see it wasn’t a turboprop (we rated a real, honest to goodness jet). As we loaded all our stuff onto the plane, I stood next to the nose holding Sofia and her hair blew in the wash kicked up by the engine – pretty picture. She liked the “breeze.”

Our pilot apparently studied at the Richard Petty School of Flight, because he whipped around the taxiway like he owned the plane. Then as we got into the air, the familiar thump of turbulence rattled the plane and sent my stomach crashing into my liver, or was it my spleen?

I clutched the prayer book again and turned somewhat green.

But just as we hit another big bump, I heard Sofia say “Wheeeee! Do it again! Do it again!”

My little adventure girl loved it – and made everyone around us laugh. Even me.

But I was never so happy to be back on the ground.

Arriving in Asheville we decided to get something to eat. And Michele’s brother’s girlfriend Jennifer, the amazing force of nature who programs and runs LEAF and has turned a little campground in the hills of Western Carolina into one of the best small music festivals in the country, had recommended this little place near the airport that serves up real Carolina BBQ.

Like all the best restaurants on the planet, it was a little place in a strip mall -- nothing fancy from the outside. This only heightened my anticipation. And upon stepping inside, I was not dispapointed. Yes -- real plastic benches. Cafeteria-style ordering. Iced tea -- both the "sweet tea" and unsweetened varieties. Red and white table vinyl tablecloths. Three kinds of sauce on every table and hot sauce if that wasn't enough. And a sweet little old lady behind the counter who called everyone (except me) 'ma'am."

I liked Carolina already.

There were ribs, chicken, barbecue (shredded beef or pork), brisket and a lovely collection of side dishes including baked beans and hush puppies. It was a difficult decision, but I ordered the brisket, in part because it came with three sides AND hush puppies. And it was sooooo good.

As my grandmother Mamie would say, “Pigs sleep after they eat.”
Once at the campground – turn left at the Swannanoa Valley Youth Development Center (an inoffensive name for a place holding serious juvenile offenders) and drive about a mile past the mobile homes – we were there.


Lake Eden. The home of Black Mountain College, the avant garde arts college that brought some of the world’s greatest creative minds to a little town in Western Carolina between the 1930s and 1950s. Now it’s a summer camp for boys. But twice a year, LEAF invites a few thousand people into cabins and tents on the property and brings in artisans, musicians, healing arts practitioners and vendors serving yummy food from all over the world onto this property and makes something magic out of it all.


Things started becoming clear to me the first night we were there, when we feasted on a buffet of African food and listened to The Afromotive, an up and coming Asheville band with a slick horn section.

There before me taking in the band and dancing was an interesting mix of folks. Parents with little kids. Twenty-somethings with long skirts or dreads and aging baby-boomers with long gray hair. Yuengling on tap. And everyone having a good time.

And after several minutes of plinking around, The Afromotive found a sinister groove and started kicking it. The horn section all took solos as the drums and African percussion pushed them on.

Thing one: They were good.

Thing two: This was going to be fun.

And it was. Jen and Leigh sure know how to pick great musicians. We in particular liked Crooked Still, an alt-bluegrass band from Boston, and Toubab Krewe, which is somewhere between African music and Pink Floyd. We also liked Martha Redbone, whose band opened with the theme from Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids. Rock!

There were tons of families with little kids and tons of stuff for them to do. The festival has an entire area dedicated to kids’ activities and it was tremendous fun for the girls.

LEAF is known for having a family-friendly vibe and the reputation is well deserved. No drunks, no fights, none of the nonsense that seems to go part and parcel with music festival. Then again, this was a world music fest in the woods, not OzzFest at the Meadowlands. Crazy, but that’s how it goes…

Did I say no fights?

Sofia and her cousin Alyssa got along pretty well, but as was the case a few weeks ago when Sofia went to stay over with Auntie Kim and Grandma, the two of them eventually agreed to disagree.

Like the time that Alyssa took Sofia’s stroller. At first Sofia got really mad … like grabbing it back and baring her teeth. I picked her up in hopes of diffusing the sitiation. But it was several minutes later that we learned Sofia has a sense of justice (good) and can keep a grudge (not so good).

She and her cousin were sitting in their strollers on opposite sides of a path when Sofia, very purposefully, got up, marched over to Alyssa, said “not nice!” and thwacked her. Good luck with the unlearning.

I guess she must have been a very tired girl by that point, because Sofia slept the whole way home on the plane.

Sofia and Daddy jam to the ABCs

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Sofia can sing her ABCs now. Daddy was teaching her how to accompany her singing with a tune on the xylophone. She's so talented!

Sofia dances the Macarena

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We had a great time at Maggie and Kevin's wedding but Sofia had the best time showing her moves on the dance floor.

See you again someday, Tony

Tony and Greg, 1970

Sofia didn't make the trip to Buffalo with me -- too long, too much for her at this age -- and I'm sad that she only met her great-grandfather once, when she was just six weeks old. But we were able to send pictures on a regular basis and we had hopes of traveling to see him and great-grandma next month. Life doesn't always cooperate. I would have liked him to see up close how she has grown -- just to see him smile and watch her play.

But now he has a front-row seat to watch her grow. And I hope they bring him all the kielbasa with Weber's horseradish mustard and Genny Cream Ale he likes right to his seat. Please make that on rye with extra horseradish, St. Peter, and if you wouldn't mind, some hard-boiled eggs on the side, too. He's earned it.

This is Sofia's Web page, but if I can make an exception for a day, here are some thoughts that I was able to share on behalf of my family at the funeral service on Monday, April 24:

My grandfather, Anthony Sukiennik, built many types of cabinets and pieces of furniture for homes all over North Tonawanda, Western New York, Massachusetts, Georgia – maybe some places we don’t know. He never advertised his work – word of mouth was enough. And when asked to work on another project, he never hesitated or said “no.” Members of our family heard it over and over again yesterday during the visitation – his friends came up to us and said “We have so many things in our home that Tony made.”

And yet in the midst of all this work, my grandfather was a sensitive and a gentle soul with a gleam in his eye and a laugh no one could mistake for anyone else’s. And about that gleam in his eye – if you were at the visitation and looked at the pictures, you say that it sparked the brightest when he was with his children and their children – his grandchildren – later in life.

He married his wife of sixty-five years, Julia – my grandmother – in 1940, and with her, built a strong and loving marriage. He built a garage on the property at 1149 Ruie Road and the family lived in the apartment above while he built the house. And he worked hard to give his three children – David, Bruce and Corrine – a better life, and their children in turn.

On behalf of our family we would like to thank all of you for your kind words of comfort and sharing of our sorrow through these past few days. Your words of encouragement and fond remembrances of Anthony have helped us through this difficult time and helped us to celebrate the truly remarkable life he lived.

In Polish, the name Sukiennik means dressmaker, or tailor – literally, one who takes plain cloth and makes into fine garments. Or, another way, one who takes raw materials – like wood – and turns them into something functional and beautiful.

Life and faith were not spectator sports for Anthony Sukiennik. He was a doer, in his element and happiest at work helping others. A builder. A husband. A father. A friend. A Christian. A mentor.

He helped build this very church, as a charter member of St. Joseph’s Parish and a member of its Holy Name Society. He built the baptismal font, welcoming new members to our faith, and served as an usher for many years.

It is altogether fitting that Anthony Sukiennik was a builder of St. Joseph’s Church, for St. Joseph was his role model – a carpenter, devoted father, a man of great faith.

And my grandfather never asked for anything in return, never complained about how hard he had to work, punching in at factory jobs and hunching over his table saw, and all the while taking care of his children and remaining active in parish life his entire life. In a world where there is a pervasive sense of entitlement, here was a man who asked for nothing – and worked for everything.

Now, my grandfather has the rest that our Savior has promised us – the eternal reward of a life lived not only in faith, but faith in action. Now he can be together with the members of our family that have gone before him. And he has given us all a great example to follow.

That’s a high standard to match. But Anthony Sukiennik, my grandfather, was fond of saying “there’s no such word as can’t.”

I for one think he was right.

Sad news

Rest in Peace, Great-Grandpa Sukiennik. Anthony died of heart failure today. He was too weak to revive. I don't know any more details, except that the funeral will be Monday. Greg plans on going.

My only regret was that we didn't visit more often.

A major milestone (not for the squeamish)

There's some things only parents "get."

With that in mind, I approach the following topic with some caution and trepidation ... because doubtless, some of you don't want to know and don't care to know about the nascent bathroom habits of our girl.

If she weren't nearly 2 and just figuring this out, we wouldn't want to know, either.

But all of us had to learn some way, sometime, right? We're not born knowing this stuff. That's why diapers are a multi-billion dollar industry. And it's our job to do the teaching.

So, then, to our tale. You've been sufficiently warned.

Yesterday, mom spotted Sofia making a scrunchy face -- the kind she makes when it's time to go (and I don't mean to the library).

"Do you need to use the potty?" mom asked.

"I gotta go bathroom." Sofia replied. This in itself was a big moment; usually that question met with a denial, and then a few minutes later, a changing was required.

So we've tried this before, with limited success -- plenty of practice runs. But try, try again is the mantra here. And so the girl was levitated onto the throne, and the waiting began.

And lo and behold, success!

This is a very, very big deal. And we are proud as can be of our little girl, yet again not so little any more.

I call her Mini-me

The little girl in the pajamas is Sofia, the one in the red jumper is me. That's correct. Me. Scary, huh? Like mother, like daughter. Sofia has a thing for (her daddy's) shoes, just like I did when I was her age.

And if that wasn't proof enough:

Sofia Gave Names To All The Snack Foods

The girl is a tremendous smartypants.

Anyone reading this far knows I think so anyway.

But I am convinced she is learning to read -- either she knows the words from repitition or she has them memorized via context, because when she reads familiar books by herself she says the exact words on the page, without prompting. Either way, I'm impressed. But I was impressed to begin with.

Yesterday at Trader Joe's she called a snack food we purchased by it's label name in order to ask for more.. neither of us had called the food by it's name, Snack Salad, in the store, but she was holding the bag until we checked out. (And if you ask me, Snack Salad brand dried sugar snap peas taste like sawdust.)

She said "More salad please." Apparently she has never tasted sawdust. Or is it me?

Maybe I'm full of it because I'm her dad. I willingly accept the risk of that statement being true, and she can blame me for the academic expectations and piano lessons and pursue a career in the exciting worlds of fashion or cosmetology.

But I might well be playing hide and seek with a genius. Or at least someone who thought highly enough of "A You're Adorable" and "Maisey's Morning on the Farm" to memorize the words.

Sofia also has a behavior issue. She has started expressing her displeasure with our parental decrees by hauling off and hitting us. Kid's got a solid right hook for a 27-pounder. But this will simply not do. The funny thing is once reprimanded, she says "time out" with the proper pathetic/repetant tone and goes over to sit in time out, at the foot of the stairs (where time apparently stands still) until we give the OK.

'Sofia, what's the rule about hitting?"
- "No hitting."
"Can you tell mama you're sorry?"
- "I sorry."

Other things Sofia does lately:
- Talk on the phone ("Hi grandpa.")

- Climb over daddy on the living room floor and jam her feet in his face.
- Play "basketball' with daddy. (My arms are the hoop.)
- Demand to go to the library (where mom and dad have happily made new friends with other mommies and daddies in the neighborhood).
- Sit on the potty (but not actually using it yet ... hopefully soon, my sweet lord).

Sparkly Shoes

I think these replace the "awesome" boots. Never have I seen Sofia demand shoes so quickly...she grabbed them off the display at The Children's Place and whipped off her black mary janes to put these on.

I never would have bought them otherwise, but I had a gift cert...so we got them. We left the store, her feet blinding everyone who passed. "Sparkly shoes!" she kept raising her feet to admire her new footwear.

I have pair of turquoise glitter heels and Sofia made me put them on so I could dance with her around the house. We put on her fairy princess wings and danced the hokey pokey. It was too much fun.

Dance Boogie Woogie

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Daddy and Sofia get down to Sly and the Family Stone.

Christmas, 2005

Happy 2006! Hope all is well with you, our valued readers.

We're settling in after a hectic few weeks -- holidays, birthdays and the snowstorm that knocked out power for 12 hours.

Got home to the Berkshires on the 25th and 26th and it was nice, albeit a little rushed. Sofia loved Christmas -- the first one she started to "get." No Santa yet .. maybe next year. Unlike last year we were actually able to spend the holiday with family, as daddy was not made to work both the 24th and 25th. Take that, former employers....

As for Christmas: Seeing Sofia open presents and enjoy playing with and wearing them made all the difference in our holiday this year. It was magical and heartwarming.

For the record, Sofia is a particular gift opener who can say "presents" with a full meaure of honest glee. She has learned to enjoy the ripping of wrapping paper. But she has also shown us something about patience and appreciating each gift.

Opening a present

Because after each was opened, she did not move on to the next brightly-wrapped bauble, instead insisting upon opening and playing with each particular gift. Some of which weren't even hers.

Trying on Mama's pajamas





That's why her Christmas morning gift opening took an honest-to-goodness two hours. There were

moose to be ridden,

trains to choo-choo,

tools to use,

dresses to wear.

Much to my delight, she quickly took to the play tools, demonstrating excellent hand-eye coordination as well as apitude for working with screwdrivers and hammers. I can't wait to show the pictures to her great grandfather the carpenter and cabinetmaker. Meanwhile, daddy's real tools have gone into hiding before something gets "fixed."

Also needing special mention: her aunt Corrine sent her a beautiful dress and shawl from Georgia.

She tried it on at her grandparents' house and danced happily in front of the Christmas tree.

"Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies...."

"...Ashes, ashes we all fall down!"
Corrine sure knows how to make Sofia look good.

We went back to EMass on the 27th for the day. We had a nice afternoon with our friends back in greater Boston and were sorry to have to leave -- they are missed.

New Year's Eve, Sofia was back in the Berkshires for the Fairy Princess Ball at the Berkshire Museum with her cousin and grandmothers and aunties.


I was here in CT and could not attend -- but imagine, if you will, an auditorium full of little girls in princess costumes.

Our girl was among the royalty in attendance and she and her cousin looked very adorable indeed.