Six months in and our daughter is ready to redesign her nursery. Here she is pouring through the CB2 catalogue -- which as the nice woman at Crate & Barrel informed us, is "probably more our speed." Charlotte's version of reading is an intent stare followed by a sledgehammer-like series of punches downward. If something is a truly good story, it receives a series of low fives and the syllable "da," repeated in tiny baby bursts of enthusiasm.

As for the picture beneath, we're thinking martini glasses might come somewhere between meat at eight months and milk at a year -- although stemless wine glasses are always a nice option. I'm not sure what it says about her parents that this is the page she turned to...

We left our stoop behind in Brooklyn, but life is still good when you sit on the steps.

It's a veritable buffet these days with all sorts of grain options and tiny cups of vegetables for babies. Feeding your infant is somewhere between ballroom dancing and hostage negotiation. You swoop in with the spoon, hope to find your rhythm, count the steps under your breath, and at some point Kevin Spacey (or Kate) steps in to finish the job.

The key is to remember that the baby holding the spoon is in control; and if she wants me to make helicopter noises or just sit silently while she decides whether to let the peas go down the front of her bib, I will do that. So far, we've cruised through the grains (barley, oatmeal, rice, and wheat) as well as orange vegetables (squash, sweet potatoes and carrots).

The green vegetables are a sticking point -- although having tasted the peas and green beans, I can understand why. Today is fruits and just like the pilgrims would have felt about ho-hos, I think this infusion of sweetness is going to rock her tiny little baby world. I just hope everybody's clothes come through this one safely.

Through the course of a series of onesies, jackets, and sleepers -- we're working our way through the animal kingdom -- it is the Lion King without a power struggle or drought. So today on our tour of the suburban safari, we present to you the many faces of monkey.



First, there's the greeter monkey -- a smile playing at the corner of her lips and hair that is set to go in every direction as soon as the hood is removed from her head.



Next we have suspicious monkey. She follows you around the theme park's gift shop to ensure that you do not take any of her pacifiers or hooded towels home. Just know wherever you go, suspicious monkey is watching.



And finally, we have sleeping monkey. Per the baby's instructions, the dog is to lay on the sock monkey in order to assure that it doesn't escape into the wild. This is a monkey that has been imported from the mean streets of Brooklyn -- it's still adapting to the bucolic world of Kansas City -- and thus requires a canine guard.

Our daughter is part Wild Thing - Part Pat the Bunny. If there's anything good about winter, it's the ability to dress one's child in a series of warmer and more ridiculous outfits.