Meeting visiting colleagues in person

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It’s hard to believe, but it’s been over four years of working 100 percent remotely. The pandemic started here in New York in March 2020. I accepted my first 100 percent remote job in late August 2020, starting the last week of September that year. So for over four years, my face-to-face interaction with colleagues has been rare, mostly confined to “seeing” each other via Zoom rectangles on my external computer monitor. I adapted to it pretty quickly since I didn’t really have a choice back then, but to think that now it’s not my “new normal” but rather my “everyday normal” is a bit odd to admit out loud. It’s been over four years of not going into an office regularly, not doing work travel via plane regularly, and not having everyday, casual catch ups and small talk in person with work people.

So when my colleague who is based in Paris, France, told me that he would be here in New York for his wife’s work retreat this week and asked if I’d be free to meet, of course, I said yes. I blocked my calendar for this morning, hopped on the train like a wannabe daily New York City commuter, and took the subway downtown to meet him at Bourke Street Bakery, near where he’d have his next scheduled catch-up. I needed a place that a) had good coffee and b) decently okay-for-Manhattan seating so that I wouldn’t have to worry about fighting anyone for. a table. Bourke Street delivered on both.

I wasn’t sure what we would talk about or how we would get along, but I figured I could use the in-person socialization time since I get so little of it nowadays. We’d only been on two Zoom calls previously, almost completely just about work with very little small talk. We’d had a few Slack communications, and that was really it. But we actually got along pretty well, especially once we started talking about travel, different places in the world, and life in New York vs. Paris. He’s originally from the south of France in a small town near Cannes. His background before tech was quite eclectic and interesting (especially to me, ha): he used to live in Beijing working for a wine business in the mid 2000’s, left after 1.5 years, then came to New York to work in the restaurant industry; then he went back to Paris, worked in the restaurant industry again, and then somehow got suggested for a software sales job and never looked back. To this day, he still has many friends, mostly French, who work in the restaurant industry both here and in Paris, and thus has great connections to get the most sought-after restaurant reservations (he generously offered to show me and my family around next time I’m in Paris, and to get me hooked up with the best restaurant bookings). He gave me some tips for French restaurants in New York and also told me about some of the restaurants he had lined up for him and his wife to go to during their short stay here this time around. It was an hour that was enjoyable and well spent.

After we finished our coffee catch up, he walked me to the train station and we bid each other adieu. And on the short train ride home, I thought about how much I really miss these casual, non-work-related colleague catch-ups. I was really glad I didn’t make up some lame excuse and not meet him; laziness doesn’t have any benefits. Being alone in front of my computer most of the day can really suck. At least I can multi-task with things at home, which is a huge plus when you’ve got a little one in your life. But the social aspect of work is probably what I miss the most about pre-pandemic in-office life (the free printing and office supplies were also a huge bonus, too!). These types of daily social interaction used to be a part of my everyday routine, whether it was random conversation in the office kitchen or hallway, or during a coffee/tea break close to the office. The Zoom fatigue is real. It’s much harder to “connect” with people on a screen than it is face-to-face. Plus, I can’t really blame colleagues who don’t want to do “fun” catch-ups that frequently over Zoom. We would all rather it be in person, and who wants yet another Zoom meeting?!

Kaia and her doll Abbi

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For Christmas last year, Chris’s cousin Rob and his wife Abbi gifted Kaia her first doll: a brown-skinned cotton doll with a removable yellow dress with flowers, plus matching yellow shoes and pigtails also tied in yellow. Back then, I was touched by the doll: Kaia had a near-replica dress that I’d purchased for her in Kochi last summer in a mustard yellow color that could make the doll a mini-me to Kaia. We asked Chris’s parents to bring back the doll this visit so that Kaia could be reunited with her and “build a relationship” with her first and new doll Abbi. While Kaia has enjoyed getting acquainted with Abbi the last few days, she was not necessarily amused by the matching outfits of this morning.

For school today, I dressed Kaia in the mustard yellow dress. She marveled over her “new dress” and seemed to enjoy it once I zipped her up. But when I presented Abbi to her and told her that she was matching with Abbi with the same dresses, Kaia was immediately dismayed and started whining. “Take off Abbi dress! TAKE OFF ABBI DRESS!” Kaia demanded, whining nonstop. She tried to remove the dress on her own, but other than undoing the velcro in the back, she was unable to. So I helped her remove Abbi’s dress, and she proceeded to run around holding Abbi naked, just in her white underwear.

When Chris came back from his morning swim, I told him how Kaia didn’t want the two of them to match. He proceeded to put the dress back on Abbi, which Kaia seemed nonchalant about… until I announced that I wanted to take a photo of Kaia and Abbi together in their matching dresses. Kaia got very upset and started crying, yelling, “I don’t wanna take picture with her! I DON’T WANNA!”

I snapped some photos of Kaia and Abbi, anyway, and eventually Chris whisked Kaia off to school (not with Abbi, but with Peter Rabbit to comfort her). I later shared the picture privately on my Instagram Stories and tagged the actual Abbi. Abbi responded and said, “That’s not how I thought things would go in my head. Nothing ever works with kids!”

Weight loss: suggestions and inaction

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Chris’s brother had always been self-conscious about his appearance and weight. A number of years ago, he had a traumatic incident at work, which left him wounded and wanting to seek change. So he sought therapy, changed his diet abruptly, and started an intense workout regimen that resulted in him slimming down so much to the point where people didn’t even recognize him. We were all very proud of him and his journey, and it’s made me happy to see how dedicated he is to exercise and how he’s made it a daily habit.

He said he hoped, as I did, that his journey would have encouraged and even inspired his mother to do something similar, or at least, finally get to a gym and exercise regularly. His mom, for as long as I have known her, never stops talking about her weight; she’s always been extremely insecure about being “fat” and constantly complaining about how much food she eats with us. While she does go on leisurely walks, she’s never committed herself to a real workout regimen that is that rigorous. And unfortunately, Ben’s journey was not inspiration enough. So this year, Ben did research and found his mom a nearby gym that fit her general criteria, and she finally committed to going about 2-3 times per week in February. Though she’s said she can feel herself getting more tone, she has complained daily since they arrived about her weight, once again.

This morning, Chris served his parents breakfast made of foods that were leftover from previous meals that I had made, and his mom complained, saying she didn’t understand why he was feeding them so much food. “I just have to stop eating!” she exclaimed a number of times. “Eating just makes me gain weight!”

I lightly suggested to her that since she now has a gym membership, perhaps she can increase her gym sessions to meet a weight loss goal. She insisted back that exercise didn’t work for her, and she didn’t have time to go to the gym more often (I refrained from responding to that last bit, especially given she barely works part-time. And I doubt Chris heard her say this when she said it). “Exercise just doesn’t help me. I’ve been active my whole life and I lose no weight!”

“Active” her whole life… according to whom?

I didn’t want to let this go, though, without a response. As someone who has been exercising regularly her entire adult life and had an interesting journey to figure out what works and what doesn’t, I know what I am saying is correct. In general, I just don’t think her relationship with exercise is fully rooted in facts, nor does she recognize that exercise can actually be fun, as she keeps insisting she wants to “get it out of the way” first thing in the morning… which then means she misses out on classes, which she has always said she enjoys most. You can’t be that committed to something like exercise unless you enjoy it, so you can have it one way or the other: look at it as yet another “chore” and “get it out of the way,” or actually look forward to it like a class, which she claims to like. I told her that I didn’t think that her exercise was rigorous enough in that her heart rate was unlikely going up to a point where her body could burn fat properly. Heart rate matters, especially as you get older, and you need to be challenged. Rest times between exercises matter. Making sure things aren’t “too easy” matters. It is pretty much impossible for someone doing regular, rigorous exercise to see zero results.

She wasn’t thrilled with my response, as she insisted that even without the gym, she walked regularly; some people just can’t lose weight while others do very easily (well, this changes as we age. But I could tell she thinks that I lose weight just by clicking my fingers, but she has no idea how much work it actually takes every day, plus the willpower to get up so early every morning to make this a daily habit). But I pushed back and said that if walking doesn’t do anything for her from a weight loss standpoint, then it’s clear she’s not walking fast enough (power walking) to burn fat. I sent her a calculator to figure out what her heart rate has to be to be in the “fat burning” zone. I hope she takes a look at it and considers it.

She continued to say that Chris made them eat too much while here. And I suggested seriously that she go to the gym with me each morning while here if she was really that concerned about eating too much. She hesitated and said she only had leggings and no t-shirt. I suggested she borrow a t-shirt from Chris, which would be easy. And she said, “We’ll see.” I don’t want to push her, but I do want her to recognize, even a little, how impossible her attitude is towards weight and exercise.

The truth is that she can’t have it both ways: she can’t complain about all the food she’s eating, then when given the opportunity to exercise, refuse. She’s basically saying she wants to take no accountability for her actions, blame Chris and food, do no exercise, but still wants to lose weight, which makes no sense. It’s hard to have empathy when all suggestions and offers are rejected repeatedly. Everyone has to take their health into their own hands; no one is going to give you a magic pill to solve all your health woes. Eating relatively well and exercising regularly are an investment in your health, and it’s odd that so many people don’t seem to understand this.

Whole-Brain Child

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I just finished reading my tenth book this year called The Whole-Brain Child: 12 Revolutionary Strategies to Nurture Your Child’s Developing Mind, Survive Everyday Parenting Struggles, and Help Your Family Thrive, by Daniel J. Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson. While I did find it annoying and almost exhausting when they would keep saying “the left brain does this,” “the right brain does that,” and the upstairs/downstairs brain does y and z, I did find a lot of the tips to be very compelling and summed up in easy-to-digest-and-understand ways. Also, I think recent science has debunked the notion that different hemispheres and parts of the brain operate independently, as the brain is far more complex than that: the brain’s different hemispheres are not, in reality, like two separate personas taking turns thinking and processing information. In pretty much every situation, you are using both sides. What does hold water is that as young brains are developing, they are far more emotional than they are rational, and that’s where parents can help guide their children in the right direction. We can help them understand that an emotion is a temporary state and does not define them as people; we can help them understand the importance of things like a routine, sharing with others, and caring for others. Although the jargon and framing was a bit annoying and questionable, I did enjoy the book overall and think it does have a lot of practical applications, especially the last part, which has a “worksheet” you can use to apply their recommended strategies to kids of specific age ranges.

I really enjoyed the ending of the book, too, where the authors say this:

“It’s not how our parents raised us, or how many parenting books we’ve read. It’s actually how well we’ve made sense of our experiences with our own parents and how sensitive we are to our children that most powerfully influence our relationship with our kids, and therefore how well they thrive. It all comes down to what we call our life narrative, the story we tell when we look at who we are and how we’ve become the person that we are … Our life narrative determines our feelings about our past, our understanding of why people (like our parents) behaved as they did, and our awareness of the way those events have impacted our development into adulthood. When we have a coherent life narrative, we have made sense of how the past has contributed to who we are and what we do.”

People who don’t “get it” and lack empathy and deep emotional understanding always say, “the past is in the past.” The reality is that it actually isn’t because as the authors say here, the past and your past experiences shape who you are and how you see and interact with the world today and into the future. I personally found pregnancy and motherhood very triggering in a lot of ways because it forced me to reckon with my past experiences as a child with my mercurial, emotionally immature parents. I had to do a lot of thinking about what kind of parent I wanted to be, what I wanted to emulate of my parents, and what I wanted to steer far away from. In the most random moments, I would be reminded of some negative, toxic experience I had with my mom or dad, or that I witnessed between my parents and Ed, and I’d just feel anger and disgust that something so senseless and psychologically damaging could have happened. And I’d think to myself, I never, ever want Kaia to know what that type of treatment is like, ever.

I know why my parents are the way they are: my dad had absentee parents who left him at home as a latchkey kid to fend, feed, and care for himself. One parent was what my aunt called “like Dr. Jekyll and Hyde,” emotionally void and always distant; the other parent constantly criticized everything and everyone because nothing was ever good enough. So my dad became fiercely independent and expected his kids to be the same; he refused to teach us anything and expected us to learn everything on our own (one of Ed’s most painful memories that he used to recount to me from time to time was the morning of his elementary school graduation. Ed had never worn a tie before, but my mom wanted him to wear one for the ceremony. He asked my dad to help him. My dad snorted in response and said, “If you don’t know how to tie your own tie, you shouldn’t even be graduating”). My mom’s dad died when she was young, and her mom didn’t even want her because she was not only the youngest, but a girl. I’ve come to terms with how they are who they are; I’m an adult now, after all. I just don’t think I have to suffer their verbal beatings all the time anymore.

Awareness comes first. Action is in little steps every day. I’m just trying my best to be the best parent I can be, and I hope when Kaia is an adult that she will still want to spend time with me and enjoy it. The book suggests trying to find mutually fun things that you can do with your child as they get older that are fitting for their stage of development/age. Otherwise, they say, your child as an adult may not want to have anything to do with you because they will have nothing to do with you! That could not be truer for me: my parents and I literally have nothing we can do together other than eat, even when I’ve attempted to take them on light hikes and walks. Even a walk is not something they want to do altogether. That’s sad, isn’t it?

Kerala (Mallu) food: a party for all senses

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Today, we went over to Chris’s mom’s cousin’s building a few blocks away for a family gathering, with relatives coming together from New York, Philadelphia, Australia, and India. Given our group was a bit larger, they rented the common space lounge of their condo building for the lunch. As soon as we arrived, it was clear the dinner table was laid out for a feast, with bright green, yellow, and orange table settings, plates, and napkins. Place mats were also laid out on three other tables where the eventual food would be placed for buffet-style serving. Although we showed up close to 1 when the event was meant to start at 12:30, they told us that the Kerala (Mallu) Indian caterers in New Jersey were supposed to deliver the food by 11am. So, needless to say, they were running quite a bit late.

But when the food eventually did arrive, it was clear it was all worth the wait (Chris’s uncle and aunt told us, “Their service is horrendous. They are always, always late and it’s nearly impossible to even place the order. It all has to be paid in cash. But we put up with them because the food is so, so good!”). I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the sheer variety of the foods delivered, but also how intoxicating it all smelled. This is what was served, with my rudimentary knowledge of the names of these actual dishes in Malayalam – 13 in total (!), in addition to the freshly fried pappadams, which were so fragrant that any time someone bit into one near me, I could smell the delicious spiced scent wafting towards me:

Nadan meen curry – Kerala style red fish curry

Kappa Puzhukku – Kerala-style mashed tapioca/cassava (to be eaten with the fish curry)

Kerala style beef cutlets with a side of raw red onions and chilis

Kerala / Malabar style parathas – “rounded” flakiness – the best!

Kerala beef fry Ularthiyathu – with big chunks of meaty coconut strips

Kerala-style chicken curry

Ghee rice with cashews and caramelized onions

Moru curry (Buttermilk/yogurt curry)

Yellow dal

Savory mango yogurt curry

Savory banana curry

Black-eyed pea and green bean thoran

Kerala red rice (AHHH, what a treat outside of Kerala!!)

I thought I had died and gone to food heaven. Every bite was beyond delicious. But because there was so much variety, it was hard to eat more than 2-3 bites of any one dish. It was truly such a treat to have this food in the middle of Manhattan, of all places — and delivered from the Northeast Capital of Indian Food: New Jersey!! But I did leave extra space for the kappa since we don’t ever see it on menus. The beef fry, with its thick, crunchy chunks of coconut, is truly one of my favorite Indian dishes, along with the fish curry — they are very unique flavors and textures. My brain wanted to eat more, but my stomach had to put the savory eating to a stop, especially since for dessert, we had my orange olive oil cake and some semiya payasam, as well, and I needed space for these.

While I was eating this sumptuous meal in the midst of all of Chris’s Mallu relatives, I thought back to the time when I was in Singapore in 2012 for my friend’s wedding. Her husband used to say that South Indian food wasn’t as prevalent in the U.S. “for a reason,” as in, it didn’t taste as good as North Indian food (but anyone knowing history and the demographics of India would know that on average, people from Delhi/the surrounds are far lesser educated than the people of Kerala, the state of India that has the highest literacy rate. So while North Indians were on average poorer and immigrating to western countries to open restaurants and pursue lower level service jobs, Keralites were moving for “knowledge work” careers and on average, not opening restaurants). So when I said I wanted to explore the Indian area of Singapore to try the South Indian food, he had rolled his eyes and said, “All South Indian food is is dosa and idli, which aren’t even that good.”

As I enjoyed every bite of my beef fry, fish curry, and Malabar-style parathas, all I could think was… how could anyone be so wrong and ignorant about how good this food is?!

A weekend of cooking and baking for the parentals/in-laws

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My planning for the mango tiramisu did not go exactly as expected when I realized I would need the equivalent of 2.5 pounds of ripe mango puree, and I had barely 1.5 pounds with my ripe ataulfo mangoes. So in the end, I went with my plan B recipe, which was to make Maialino’s orange olive oil cake. I made a couple changes, such as slightly reducing the sugar, olive oil (this cake requires high quality olive oil since it’s the main flavor, so I used a grassy Australian olive oil that was just pressed last year), and replacing the Grand Marnier with more orange juice. I also topped it with a mascarpone based frosting, which came out nice and light.

For breakfast this morning, I made blueberry buttermilk pancakes, whose batter I allowed to rest for just over an hour. I was recently listening to a cooking podcast where a baker was talking about tips to increase flavor in baked goods without much effort. And this was the number 1 tip she had for pancakes: simply let the batter rest on the counter for anywhere from 1-4 hours, and you’ll immediately taste the difference vs. using batter that was just mixed. This small change has resulted in far more flavor than in my previous pancakes. So now when we have pancakes, I usually pre measure all the dry ingredients the night before and add to a bowl, and the morning of, I add in all the wet ingredients and mix as soon as I wake up. Then, while getting everything else ready, an hour-plus will quickly pass, and the pancake batter will “age” enough to garner a more complex flavor. I only wish I knew this tip sooner! We enjoyed these pancakes with maple syrup, plus a kimchi-spinach egg scramble with avocado on the side.

The nice thing about having Chris’s parents here is that they always enjoy and appreciate the food I make, so I have more excuses to make more things I wouldn’t always make. It’s nice to be around people who actually appreciate what you spend time and effort in doing for them and show it.

Lady fingers – where are you?

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Years ago when I was still living at home, I attempted to make a raspberry charlotte cake. It was quite the undertaking: it is basically a layered sponge cake with a fruit puree filling, lined along its circumference with lady fingers, which are like miniature sponge cakes that are shaped like fingers. I was hell bent on making the lady fingers from scratch, so I actually made the batter, added it to a ziplock bag, then piped them onto parchment paper and baked them. And.. it was a complete and total mess. The lady fingers didn’t have the right texture or firmness, and in the end, I made an emergency trip to a grocery store to buy already-made lady fingers for my cake. From that point onward, I vowed to never make lady fingers ever again.

So I’ve made tiramisu once since then, and I used lady fingers purchased at an Italian grocery store and ones made from Whole Foods, both of which were quite pure in its ingredients for store-bought. I tried to go to Whole Foods to buy some more, but I found out that the Columbus Circle location had stopped selling Whole Foods-made lady fingers for whatever reason. I ended up having to go to Brooklyn Fare to buy a pack. They only had Goya brand, which was also surprisingly short in its ingredient list (and only $3 for a full pack!), so it was hard to complain.

I’m planning to layer these with mango puree and mascarpone and heavy cream for a mango tiramisu tomorrow. I’m so excited about my no-bake dessert project!

When the husband panics over a lack of “fruit”

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From the period between March and July, our house is always full of mangoes — ataulfo (champagne) mangoes, to be specific, since here in the U.S., these smaller yellow variety of mangoes seems to be the most reliable when it comes to sweetness, flavor, as well as lack of stringiness. Americans who say they don’t like mangoes generally think this because of previous experiences with sad “stringy” and flavorless mangoes. Ataulfo mangoes are never, ever stringy unless you are extremely unlucky.

Although I love to cook and bake, I rarely do either with any of these mangoes. I usually just peel and cut them for all of us to eat. Occasionally, I’ll make mango lassi, and that’s it. But this weekend for a lunch at a relative’s house, I’m planning to make no-bake mango tiramisu. I got the idea from a popular Indian food blog I follow, and I figured it would be a tasty idea to incorporate our favorite and seasonal fruit. I’m pretty excited about this mini project.

But late last week, Chris got upset when he discovered that I had not cut up any mangoes for his after-dinner fruit. For Chris, mangoes are king, and there is no greater fruit on earth than mangoes (I would agree with these sentiments). He asked if we had run out of mangoes. I replied, no, we have them, but they just aren’t ripe enough to eat yet. I usually “socially distance” the mangoes by the window to prevent them from releasing too much ethylene gas and ripening too quickly. But Chris got impatient; he was not satisfied with the raspberries, grapes, or even pineapple that I had cut and prepared. His “after dinner fruit” NEEDED to include mangoes, otherwise to him, there was simply an absence of actual “fruit.” So he stuck all the mangoes right up next to each other to encourage them to ripen more quickly. He called it the “mango orgie.” Then, in the next two days, he kept checking on them and asking me if they were ready yet. For Chris, asking if the mangoes are ready yet is akin to asking, “Are they ready for you to peel and cut for me to eat?”

We are a family of mango lovers… even if Kaia is currently on a mango strike. I swear she must be doing this to spite her parents.

Women are bearing children older – age 35 is the new normal

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I think if my mom had it her way, I would have graduated from college at age 22 (done), gotten married between ages 24-26 (that was never going to happen), then have at least one kid by age 30 (yeah, right!). She always said that you should have one child before age 30; if you want a second kid, then it’s okay to wait until a little after 30 if you need to. Having children after 35 was a definite no-no in her book. But when I got married at age 30, she changed her tune: have kids ASAP — it’s okay. You could hear the desperation in her voice for grandchildren as soon as possible.

When we couldn’t get pregnant after trying for a while, she predictably blamed me, even after I told her that all my tests came back normal. It’s almost as though she couldn’t imagine it wasn’t her daughter’s “fault.” The truth is that my mom and a lot of other mothers in her generation don’t seem to understand is that having kids… is not necessarily easy (as in conception) to do, nor are the costs that we’re looking at similar to what they faced when they were in their child-bearing years. So it’s no wonder that when I went to see my OB-GYN yesterday, she told me that the averages they are seeing at her practice is that women in New York City are having their first kid at age 35 (hey, that includes me!). Childcare is too expensive; not everyone has the luxury of nearby grandparents who are not only able and willing to help, but actually able-bodied… and able-minded.

Once upon a time, the medical industry would label any pregnancy of a woman age 35 or above as a “geriatric pregnancy” (frankly, I’m sure that in many parts of this country and world, they are still labeled the same way). I poked fun at this and told her that I heard the cutoff for this derogatory label had increased to 40+, and I asked her if this was really true. She sheepishly admitted that yes, the label has changed to 40+, but insisted that they do not use that term in their practice. She has said that for women who want to bear children that her own recommended cutoff had changed with the times: finish having children by age 45, latest, she advises.

I told my friend this, who had his child at age 44 when his wife was 40. He responded, “Just because it is physically possible to be healthy definitely does not mean it’s easy!”

Well, if you want what you want and get it…

Toddlers making sense of the world and discussing amongst their stuffed animal friends

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I hope one day, when Kaia is in elementary school, middle school, high school, and an adult that I will not forget her cute toddler moments, soaking in all her surroundings and making sense of the world. Being able to watch her grow every day and develop in the most seemingly small ways has been beyond rewarding, more fun and exciting than I’d ever really thought about when I was trying to conceive and when I was pregnant. It is actually even more exhilarating now than theoretically, which is saying quite a lot. But it’s not even just witnessing and being a part of her growth and development that is so amazing; it is also being forced into a moment with her and ultimately enjoying and living in that moment that is so great. As adults, we always have so many things on our plates, things to worry and stress over, things to plan for in the next day, week, month, year, that we often forget to really enjoy and be in a single moment. But toddlers, given how developed their brains are, fully and completely live in the moment; they have no conception of tomorrow or any future. And for us to really enjoy this time with them, we, too, must live in the moment. Otherwise, this time will pass, and soon, they will be grown adults who don’t want to spend as much time with us or cuddle with us anymore.

One of the things I love most is being in the same room or the room next door to where Kaia is when she’s playing with her stuffed animals. I love listening to what she says to them and how she addresses them. Her mouse stuffed animal is named RaRa (she named the mouse after I asked her one day), and she wears a red sweater with a button. She was telling RaRa today that it was time to get ready for bed.

“Okay, time to go to sleep, RaRa mouse!” Kaia declared while climbing onto her bed and grabbing RaRa. “Xi zao (take a bath), shua ya (brush teeth), shu tou (comb hair), suck nose. Do you want to take off your sweater? I help you take off your sweater for bed.”

I looked over at her, and she glanced back at me and stopped talking, but she continued to try to remove RaRa’s red sweater. She then moved onto her kangaroo, which holds an Australian flag that you can remove. She patted the kangaroo gently on his head and back and said, “Kangaroo, are you all done with your flag? Can I have it?” Then, she proceeded to take the flag away from the kangaroo and play with the flag.

A few mornings this week, I’ve taken Kaia to school, which means I also get to see her teacher. She’s usually not there at pickup since she leaves at 4:30 given her schedule. So it’s an opportunity to ask how Kaia is doing and to hear anything interesting she wants to share. Her teacher told me that Kaia is constantly chatting with her and all the kids all day long: she is a true chatterbox. And she’s very helpful and supportive to the teachers as well as her classmates. When other kids are upset or having tantrums, Kaia goes to them and tells them, “It’s okay, (insert name). Don’t cry. Do you want to go over there and take a break?” Sometimes, she even offers them a hug or to hold their hand.

My baby is blossoming into this sweet, empathetic, caring human. I could not be prouder.