Saski-Day finally came!

I know a LOT of you were upset that you couldn't be at my birthday party yesterday. My bad... I didn't realise the bouncers would be so discriminating. I guess that's what I get for hiring biker gangs to watch the door.

Anyhow, someone was able to sneak a camera into the VIP section and captured my favourite moment of the day:



Yes, that's right... that cake was seriously on fire!!! I think Dad lit a candle for every week I've been alive.

Let me also give an extra special shout-out to everyone who couldn't be there but who sent emails and texts instead. My assistants have told me they were all really beautiful and heartfelt.

Love to all of ya!

Sass

Wednesday Night Fever

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I'm a wobbly girl, haven't learned to talk.
Music loud and my nappy warm.
I've been flopping around since I was born.
And now it's all right, it's O.K.
Too cute to look the other way.
We can try to understand
How to keep my balance man.
Whether you're a brother
Or even if you're my mother,
You're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cot it's breakin'
And ev'rybody shakin'
And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha,
Stayin' alive.

That's right - I am the long lost and legendary 5th Bee Gee.

Right... so for as long as I can remember (ie. about 10 days back) I've always wanted to dance. And with my birthday coming up this weekend, I thought it was about time I got motivated and taught myself the toddler two-step.

My first attempts at dancing were lacklustre, to say the least:



If I was ever going to improve, there was a basic skill I was going to have to master. Yes, to dance.... to really dance... apparently it helps to be able to stand.

So stand I did!



Not bad huh? It's only a matter of time now until I'm jumping shark tanks with my motorcycle.

Anyhow, just wait until you see some of my whack moves when I throw down at my b-day par-tee!

And in the meantime, here are a few more photos I'm putting up online in a blatant attempt to assault your senses with so much cute-ness you feel obligated to buy me extra stuff for my birthday.

Seriously... people sometimes think we're sisters! And by people, I mean the blind and/or deceased.

This would have been a lot more fun if Dad let me wear my spurs.

I love this Calvin kid and his wicked toys...

So I finally got my very own transmogrifier!!

What can I say? Life is good. ;)

Love ya homies!!

Sass

Who's Number 1?

Talk about your rhetorical questions! The shirt does not lie.


Behold the joy of pointing. Watch me point as I inquire what the big glowing light hanging from our ceiling is. Watch me point as I see birds in our backyard. Watch me point as I insist Dad carry me to a particular spot, and then directly back again. Watch me point at Mom whenever Dad asks where that poopie-nappie smell is coming from.

Yes, just call me Pointy McPoint. I can't get enough of it these days.

Of course, you gotta take good care of a precious pointing finger like mine. My favourite tip: I like to coat it in honey and soak it in virgin goats milk to ensure I optimise my maximum pointing ability (while also maintaining a lush and radiant skin tone... bonus!) Of course, that also makes my pointing finger uncontrollably tasty.

Mmmmm... pointingly delicious.

Even Dad tried to get a taste of my pointing finger, but I quickly tried to hide it in hopes he would get confused and leave me alone.

Silly Dad, no finger here.

Eventually, I decided to record the total awesomeness of my pointing finger for complete historical posterity and foreverness. (And to maybe one day get my own Wikipedia page.) And since you can't trust the paparazzi to take a good finger photo these days (when is the last time you saw a photo of Britney Spears' pointing finger, hmmmm?) I took it upon myself to take the snap.

First, I had to discreetly steal the camera from Dad:

I told Mom my ninja skills would come in handy one day! And to think, she wanted me to learn ballet.

Then, I had to get the lighting and the angle just right.

SNAP!


Not being able to read the instruction manual may have hindered my ability to get exactly the shot I wanted, but c'mon... I'm not even 1 yet. I bet Ansel Adams didn't take his first picture until after he was toilet trained. He obviously didn't have his artistic priorities straight.

Peace out!

Saskia.

16 days and counting down...

Until my very first BIRTHDAY!!! I hear these things are pretty awesome the first 29 times or so.

Check it out, I've got my hands in the air like I just don't care. When in fact, I do actually care...

Cool! I think I just discovered irony.

Love ya later!

Sass