Monthly Archives: February 2011

Joke’s on you Sophie the giraffe! (but, if you’re reading this, we still want you home)


Postcard from the edge (of where?)

So, listen Sophie the giraffe. When I was a little girl I used to “run away” when I was unhappy. I would shout something dramatic like, “THAT’S IT!!,” slam the back door of our house and stomp down the driveway, only stopping to look behind me to make sure someone was watching. They were obviously out of sight, so I held my head up high and continued my march. I would get to the road in front of our house and sneak down to hide under the bush. Honestly, Sophie, I was too scared of strangers to go any further and running away wasn’t my real motivation. But I think you know that already.

I would sit under that bush imagining my mother crying wretchedly, howling, “Oh if only I had given her a Barbie instead of Sindy, the English knock off. Maybe she would still be here.” The police would come, the whole town would start lamenting how great I am… until I stroll out only to be covered in hugs and kisses, carnivals would be thrown in my honor and Barbies would rain from the sky. However, after about six or eight minutes, I couldn’t hear the sirens so I’d wander out and see no one. A little further and still no one. Finally, I’d walk back into the house and realize that no one had even noticed I was gone. My point in this fascinating, if not lengthy, story Sophie, is that life goes on.

So, if you happen to be hiding behind little man’s bed (*note to self: check behind bed) thinking, “Oh, they miss me so much,” you may be surprised to find out that maybe we don’t.

And if giraffes understand irony, I apologize. I realize that in writing a blog about your missing status, I might be showing that we do actually miss you, but…  umm… ok, I have no explanation.

Oh, just come home or crawl out from behind the bed please. I’ll look into giraffe carnivals for you.

Where in the world is Sophie the giraffe?

Wanted: Sophie, the much loved giraffe

Sophie has gone walkabout. I thought she left the table when we were eating brunch; perhaps she needed to use the little giraffe’s room, I don’t know. But when I called the restaurant to ask if they had a short plastic giraffe who answers to the name of Sophie, the news was not good. And it wasn’t accompanied by the small chuckle I had expected either.

She did visit the beach earlier that day; maybe she liked it so much she made her way slowly back that way. Either way, Sophie, if you’re reading this, please come home. There’s a little man that misses you very much and couldn’t concentrate on his cereal this morning without your squeaking bringing him back to the present time. I know you might be a little offended by his mouthing of your nose, your legs and your neck, but you’ll never find that kind of love elsewhere. Not at the beach, nowhere.

And, please don’t be offended by the other giraffes in his life. After all, he told you when you met that he was not a one-giraffe kind of guy.

It doesn’t mean he loves you less. He loves all his giraffes equally.

If you have a photo of Sophie, please send to me at If we can’t track her down, perhaps we could at least follow her travels.


Welcome Back/ Photo Friday

This gallery contains 2 photos.

He’ll be four months old on the 20th and is already eating rice cereal. If you read the baby books, that’s about 2.25 months ahead of the recommended schedule. But Dr. B (our glorious pediatrician) gave the ok and Little Man was showing all the signs so we went for it and Little Man is happy as a clam (clams always seem so straight faced to me), so I felt the need to buy a Beaba (I have an addiction to kitchen tools) and a high chair. Continue reading