Josie & Rita

Marjorie got a gig to write about Women and Gambling, which necessitated a trip to Las Vegas for her and Jonathan for several days. Ah! The life of a poor struggling writer. They left Josie in our care--their first real separation from her--and flew out on Wednesday afternoon, certain, I am sure, that I would either drop the baby down the spiral staircase, roll over on her in a drunken stupor like Christopher on his girlfriend's toy poodle, or feed her a misture of nuts and glutens that would induce eczema that looked like leprosy. Fortunately, Rita, Josie's regular nanny and Carol would be there most of the time to be sure that all went well. As usual, the train was late (another letter to my new best friend, the CEO of Amtrak), but I made it in time for Josie's supper, some play, and bedtime. At the time, I didn't think she missed her parents, but now, as I look back on the whole weekend, I realize that she did go through a lot of clinginess to Rita, and, in Rita's absence, to Carol, that dissapated after a couple of days. She was saying a lot of "bye-byes," which for her is a multipurpose expression, used for

I don't like that.
Get out of my face.
Stop that.
But then she realized that her parents had gone to France and would never return, and it was time to get on with her life, and she became totally charming, more so than ever. She knows me as "Zayde" now, and associates me not only with Carol, but also as a separate individual. Her vocabulary is enormous now, and she makes her wants known easily. "Capers!" "Olives!" "Beef!" We tried cauliflower on her, but she made a foul face and did not bother to learn the word. When she really dislikes something, she not only refuses it and says "Bye-Bye," but she heaves it disdainfully and vigorously over her shoulder onto the floor.

Josie with cheerios and milk

She went to bed easily, and slept through the night, waking up once for a bottle. Better than me. I woke up twice to pee.

On To Thursday