At least I got the hair thing going for me...

Good thing my mane is so wild and woolly. Check me out if I had regular baby hair (ie. none):

Yeah, I know... bald I look like a space cadet. Definitely not a good look for me. Obviously I'd have to turn to the hottest in hat fashion to hide my shame.

Thank goodness my Dad is one hairy sasquatch! (Something tells me that later in life I'm gonna have to do a LOT of waxing...)

Later...

Saskia

Say hello to my little friends...

You'd better consider me armed and dangerous folks, cause the word is out on the streets. That's right... Saskia's got teeth. My first two deadly daggers of digestion have debuted. (Guess who just discovered alliteration?)


Give me another month and I'll finally be ready to join the carnivores club and start tearing into some raw, juicy meat! And of course when I say meat what I actually mean is a really gentle blend of pureed fruit products. Because after 6 months of surviving on nothing but boob-juice, a mushy banana puree really is equivalent to steak. Mmmmm... fruit-steak.

I've also got to practice my chewing. I really need to get a handle on these puppies soon, because the intense shooting pain in my mouth suggests I've got even more firepower coming my way soon. Food you better look out!

Later y'all... I've got some serious teething to cry out of my system now.

Saskia

The Great Outdoors

So my entire life, I've never really known a beautiful summer day. I was born at the start of winter... and while I do love autumn and winter fashions (a tip for the ladies: there's nothing like a hat, scarf and mittens to flatter the *ahem* slightly more plump baby figure) I've secretly been yearning to get outside and see what all the fuss is about.

Unfortunately, my paranoid parents have kept me on a pretty tight leash so far. If we ever go anywhere it's always home-car-house-car-home again. Booooring. In fact, I was watching the OC the other day when Ryan and Marissa spent a day at this magical place with fuzzy green floors that I'd never seen before. She called it a 'park'. (Of course, I almost missed that because I was so furious that Ryan wasn't making enough of an effort to win back Marissa, especially since everybody knew she was going to die in the next couple of episodes!)

OK... so I'm rambling now. Long story short, I finally got to visit one of these 'parks' yesterday!

Apparently the bizarre ritualistic activity everyone is taking part in is called a picnic. There were a whole bunch of other babies around too... some of them very familiar with proper picnic etiquette. Like, this one much older 6 month old boy was telling me that it's completely appropriate to smear potato salad on your face, and then eat the grass instead. Though I'm not so sure I believe him... it's hard to take advice from someone who isn't wearing any pants. (Please note that I am wearing pants. With sequins. Life is good.)

Ahh, the tourist shot. Note the beautiful brown Yarra river water in the background. Melbourne is extremely proud that we convert our massively polluted river water into a much safer environmentally friendly form.

Dad also has to learn not to stop the pram directly in the sun while taking pictures... squinting gives me premature wrinkles!

OK, the next episode of the OC is on in 5 minutes so I gotta run. Oops! Mom's coming, I better change the channel... she thinks I'm watching Playschool. I would, except the Big Ted - Little Ted - Jemima love triangle is just sooo predictable.

Peace Out...

Sass

Bumped!

This was supposed to be the cover of this month's Vanity Fair. Then all of a sudden there's some sort of press conference and before I can call my agent...

I'm off the cover! Somebody named Suri bumped me? I mean, sure.. she's definitely got hair I can respect. But can she do the mohawk like me? Nuh-uh.

I'll be back later when I get over the fickle nature of fame. Seriously, who's gonna know who this Suri chick is in a couple of months anyhow? Remember Shiloh? Yeah, didn't think so.

S.

What do you mean someone else gets attention?

So I woke up today and like all of a sudden it's some sort of special day for Dad! Fathers Day? I mean who invented that? And why wasn't I consulted? I need a new secretary, nobody sent me the memo.

So anyhow here I am waking up and thinking that Mom should be paying special attention to me and there's like no Saskia time. It's all "Ohh, I love you Saskia's Dad" and "Can I make you some pancakes for breakfast Saskia's Dad?"

I want to know when Saskia day is!

Here is me dreaming about Saskia Day, note that I have replaced my father. How disturbingly Oedipal.

Anyhow, just to make sure that people started paying attention to ME again, I decided to perform my mysterious dance of the seven terrycloths. Yeah baby... check me out!

After terrycloth #2, I'm usually pretty much wiped out.

Finally I resign myself to the fact that one day a year, Dad is allowed to be the centre of attention. He'd just better not start dancing with terrycloths. Seriously, Mom has begged him to never do it again.

Eventually, life returns to normal. By which of course I mean upside down.

Later skaters!

Sass