10 months - Burns supper

Lucia you are 10 spectacular months, well almost 11 by now. The holidays were over 3 weeks ago, and since then, it’s been like non-stop at home. Back to work, the pool, yoga, the house, the friends… Too many things going on like always.

You walk, quite a lot, but always with support. You are still bit afraid to try it on your own. Well, no hurry princess. You learn to clap your hands with daddy; and now whenever we say “well done” you clap. So funny. You are trying new sounds too, like “papapa”. And I have a doubt when you say “mamamam”; not sure if you are calling me or if you are asking for food. Maybe for you mum=food, could be…

I tried to teach you to put the toys back on the box; it works for a minute, then you decide to take them out again. I guess this is why last weekend you put your plane on Ruxandra’s cup of tea. Not exactly what I meant, but hopefully you’ll understand one day. You are learning so fast; everyday there’s something new we wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for you. 2 days ago you discovered that one of your toys rolls when you press it, and your face shines when you make it move. But still you haven’t recall that you only have to press the red monkey. Said like that, it doesn’t seem so obvious, right?

Yesterday we spent the afternoon and your friend’s Lila. She’s one month older than you, half french half Scottish. You are starting to play together, but not lfor ong though. Your favorite game consists on taking the toy the other one is holding. Of course the one that loses the toy is never happy. We celebrated Burns supper in honor or Robert Burns, Scotland’s national poet. We had the traditional haggis (but no piper) and some very nice whiskeys. Sheonagh recited some of Burns poems, but the truth is that we didn’t get it all…

Want’a try?

Address To a Haggis
Addressing the haggis
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.
...
Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o' fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinkin ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,

Gie her a haggis!