Glimpses of the Holidays

The holiday season at the Webkins Home is still in full swing. Before it all becomes a big blur in our post-holiday memories, here are some random factoids and impressions from Jeremy's Christmas 2005.

What foods did Jeremy eat?
Wheat roll? Yes.
Sweet potatoes? No.
Pumpkin pie? Yes.
Whipped Cream? Yes.
Scalloped potatoes? No.
Cheezy biscuit? Yes.
Ham? No.
Jingle bell salad? No.
Fried rice? Yes.
Steamed rice? No.
Polenta? No.
Milk? Yes.
Yogurt? Yes.
Cheerios? Yes.
Graham crackers? Yes.

How many parties did Jeremy attend?
So far, six.
One holiday party at Mama Nay's work, with about 40 people.
One gift-wrapping party at Terri & Glynis', to wrap gifts for a needy family that we adopted this Christmas, only Jeremy had to leave before the party started to go home and go to bed.
One Christmas Eve dinner at the Webkins Home with Nanny, Poppa, Uncle Ross and Aunt Brenda and Kara and Lindsey and their Grandpa John.
One Christmas Day dinner at Aunt Betsy and Uncle Rick's house with about 22 Webster relatives and lots of great rain puddles outside where Uncle Rick taught Jeremy the fine art of puddle stomping.
One Boxing Day dinner at the Webkins Home with a subset of 10 Webster relatives.
One Christmas/Hannukah celebration last night at Leslie and Chu's, with about 20 big people and at least as many 0-5 year olds running and squealing with delight throughout the house.

How stressed were Jeremy's mommies?
On a scale of 0-10, about a 7, unfortunately. We offered/committed to entertain and cook as much as we always do, even though we now have a thirteen-month-old who cuts our collective productivity in half. Jeremy's upset tummy on Christmas morning (triggered most likely by his recent graduation from formula to cow's milk) preempted our plan to open gifts first thing. While I comforted him and cleaned him up, Barb whirled around the kitchen preparing dishes for Christmas dinner. Our schedule was strung so tightly that we found ourselves racing to get on the road to Aunt Betsy's. At Betsy's, Barb & I tag-teamed to keep Jeremy safe from the oh-so-very-attractive nuisances, such as the fire place, the tile steps, the pool. By the time we headed home from the festivities, Jeremy fell into a deep and well-deserved slumber. That evening, while Jeremy snored in his crib, Barb & I finally sat by the tree gazing at the lights shimmering off of Jeremy's shiny gifts which sat still unopened and untouched.

Jeremy is a wonderful tension-breaker, though. At one point, Barb & I were bickering over something mundane like whether we could be more polite to each other even if we are stressed, and Jeremy looked at us and started laughing! He found the interchange quite comical! Yes, Jeremy, thank you for reminding us to not take ourselves so seriously, to go easy on ourselves, and to laugh often.

Where is Santa? Who is Santa?
On Christmas Eve day, Jeremy wouldn't nap. So, while the Hawkins clan was finishing up the main course and making room for Barb's scrumptious pumpkin pie, I threw Jeremy in the stroller thinking a quick spin would facilitate a power nap. As I left, Barb suggested cheerily, "Just go around the block!"

Two miles later, Jeremy was still alert, happy, gabbing enthusiastically, kicking and swinging his feet. I guessed that he was on the lookout for Santa Claus.

So Jeremy and I talked about who Santa Claus is. People have been asking us whether we are going to "do the Santa thing" with Jeremy. And we are. To me, it is important to celebrate Santa Claus in a way that inspires Jeremy's imagination while he is a child, and also in a way that will remain an enduring inspiration for hope throughout Jeremy's life. So I described Santa to Jeremy as a very generous person who helps us remember to be generous to others, especially to those less fortunate than ourselves. That is why a considerable portion of the Webkins' gift giving at Christmas time is to homeless and other low-income families and to charities that help people in need. Also, looking into Santa's face helps us to remember that the best gift that we could ever receive is what we already have -- the love shared among our family and friends. Finally, Santa also encourages us to focus on children -- to step out of our oh-so-important adult lives for a moment and consider what children can teach us. Children exude joy and playfulness in the moment, and embody hope for the future. Santa sustains and celebrates that joy and hope at Christmas time by bringing children gifts that make them happy.

Jeremy contemplated my description, and it seemed to sit well with him. When we returned home from our walk, Jeremy was content and relaxed even if he didn't sleep. Over the next several days, Jeremy certainly found Santa in his generous and loving village of extended family and friends.

Merry Christmas!

The Car

Jeremy has already figured out that the cardboard box and the basket lid make the best car, and that the wrapping paper is the FUNNEST toy of all. We sat in amazement as he matter of factly grabbed the wicker lid and turned it into what every car needs -- a steering wheel.

A new body part

Jeremy's obsession this past week has been this happy face thingy. No, we don't have a better name for it. It really isn't a toy, well, at least by itself. It is the stem that holds a happy face centipede, which in turn serves as the hanger for three happy face dangly things. The entire contraption is designed to attach to the rear window in the car and provoke a happy face on a baby who is stuck in the rear facing position in the car. Jeremy has obliged for months. Somehow, though the whole contraption slowly came apart. Jeremy yanked on the butterfly and converted it into a teether. The bumble bee was stuffed in the diaper bag as a back-up toy if Jeremy became restless in the restaurant. I can't even remember what the third dangly creature was. The centipede crawled into the front seat of the truck. And finally, last week, the stem ended up in Jeremy's fist.

And he hasn't let go. Not to eat. Not to get dressed. Not to sleep. Not to go to school. It has became a fifth limb.

 

Renovation

Please bear with me while Jeremy's blog undergoes a new do.

I'll just throw it on the floor next time...

The search for foods that Jeremy will eat is continual and not very fruitful. Some flavors he seems initially intrigued by, but the texture is too much for his sensitive palate. Or the taste itself triggers his spitting-out muscles, accompanied by dramatic facial expressions of disgust and betrayal. Often, he simply turns his head decisively away from the spoon upon the mere whiff. "No. Nope. No thank you." We try grains of all kinds, like bagels and bread and panckaes. We try veggies, fruits, cheeses, tofu. I grind freshly grilled turkey in the Kitchen-Aid. Most of these things he flatly rejects. Sure, there are a handful of things he will regularly eat, but, come on, can a kid really live on yogurt and Cheerios?

Imagine my hysteria, then, when I was unloading the dishwasher yesterday morning, and Jeremy picked up a small cubed carrot off of the inside of the dishwasher door. The same carrot that I had lovingly steamed and set upon his tray the night before. The same carrot that he shrivelled his nose up at first sight and then pushed away and ignored. And yet, here, this next morning, after the carrot had gone through the energy-saving wash cycle, complete with soap and food debris swirling around bombarding the carrot with hurricane force, and after this carrot had somehow missed its cue to exit through the garbage disposal at the bottom of the machine, here, the soap-soaked, beaten-up carrot became the object of Jeremy's desire. And he popped it into his mouth!

We also went visiting yesterday. I will hold the location confidential, so as not to bring any dishonor or bad thoughts upon my friend. See, the friend has a full house, juggling people and animals ... and let's just say that Mr. Clean hadn't visited the floor anytime recently. Which is fine by me (she who juggles people and animals in her own glass house and will therefore not throw rocks), but I know others may find this disconcerting. Anyways, Jeremy and I went visiting "there". And imagine my hysteria when Jeremy began picking up all kinds of things off the floor and eating them! Things I identified included: bits of pretzel, chunks of fig newton, and cat food. I was rolling on the floor in laughter. After I pulled myself together, I decided then and there that, from that point forward, I will simply throw Jeremy's dinner on the floor.

The Stats

Jeremy's twelve-month well-baby appointment produced the following numbers:

Two feet seven-and-one-quarter inches tall (in the ninety-fifth percentile for height).

Twenty-two pounds and four ounces heavy (in the forty-eighth percentile for weight).

FIVE injections which produced FIVE seconds of crying, and then Jeremy looked at me like, "Where are we going now, Mom?"

Holiday Card Photo Shoot

This weekend, the Webster-Hawkins family (affectionately known as the Webkins) endeavored to capture a suitable photo for a holiday card. Yes, I was dubious, seriously dubious, when Barb suggested that we take a picture of all five us (counting the two lab mutts). As if Jeremy -- he who turns stoic at the sight of a lens -- is easy to capture under normal circumstances. Add two silly dogs, and a camera on a tripod? Nuts, I thought, nuts is what Barb is! But I was a good sport.

With the weather mild and the late afternoon lighting just right, Barb and I did our best to manage the movements and moods of our lovely kid and critters. We definitely had some laughs and some bloopers. Here are a couple outtakes.





We also snapped a "keeper," which will debut via snail mail. If you want to be added to our holiday list, send me your address!

One Year Old!

Jeremy is twelve months old. As awesome as we think he is, two mommies couldn't have been happier to hear that Jeremy is average. That is the professional opinion of the developmental pediatrician who assessed Jeremy last week. Jeremy is doing everything that 11-12 month old babies should be doing, and the doctor simply had no concerns. In fact, the doc underscored how observant Jeremy is. We've always thought, in our vast experience with babies, that Jeremy was unusually engaged with and interested in people and seemed to have a strong attention span. How neat to have it dittoed by a professional.

At twelve months, Jeremy is:

1. Blowing his mommies kisses every night (can you see our hearts melting?).
2. Singing and dancing and swaying to music or drumming.
3. Pointing and gesturing at what he wants.
4. Still walking around hanging onto one of his mommies' fingers (for five months now, he's been doing this!).
5. Putting things into things.
6. Giving toys and food to his mommies, doggies and playmates.
7. Throwing a ball.
8. Initiating games.
9. Still prefering smooth foods, for the most part.
10. Turning into a little toddler before our very eyes.

 

Happy Birthday, Son!

While the goodies and gifts were gathered...



...the guest of honor was resting up for his big event.



After Jeremy woke up and greeted his "people" (about 25 family and friends), he knew exactly what to do with his cake and ice cream. Alas, it is probably the only time that smearing his food around will elicit such happy approval from the adults in his life.



After all the gifts were opened and guests thanked, the assembly of the police car took center stage. Uncle Ross (legs sticking out horizontally below at right) checked under the hood, Cousin Lindsey supervised the detailing, while Jeremy familiarized himself with the console.



Once the vehicle passed quality assurance, Jeremy hopped in with a little help.



Officer Ross provided the fuel for Jeremy's first patrol!



Jeremy loved his party. Because not all of his family members and friends spend as much time on the Internet as Mama Hawk, I printed out the entire blog, dating back to when we first learned about Jeremy back on February 16, 2005. I processed the pages on archival paper and collated them in a nice album. The process took me about a week of late nights, mostly because I reread each and every entry, and sobbed and laughed all the way along memory lane. Having the album at the party allowed everyone who loves him to hop and skip down memory lane, too. Much laughter and sweet murmuring was heard in that part of the dining room. In addition to saving the blog pages on CD, the album hopefully will be a special keepsake for Jeremy. He might appreciate it when he is 32.

Happy Birthday, Jeremy Paul. You are one year old!

We Promised!

Jeremy's foster mother, Dolly, who took him under her wing for the first eleven weeks of his life, made us promise to put a golf club in his hands by his first birthday. Dolly believes Jeremy is the next generation's Tiger Woods. Jeremy enjoyed swinging this 7-iron around. He especially liked sinking his teeth in the grip.

Parenting in the 21st Century sure is strange. Last Friday, Barb & Jeremy & I were driving around town. Nothing unusual, right? Except it was a work day, and neither Barb nor I were at work, and we were paying TWO licensed day care providers to NOT take care of Jeremy. Huh? Barb is still on leave, convalescing from her surgery. Fridays are my typical work days, when Jeremy goes to Teacher Robert's to school. Since Barb cannot lift anything over five pounds while she heals, Jeremy goes to school even when Barb is home. Last Friday, however, Teacher Robert went gallavanting to Mexico. Most day care consumers know that many licensed child care providers take two weeks of paid vacation per year, which means that parents pay the weekly rate even though the child care center is closed for business. In other words, you pay for the opportunity go find -- and pay for -- back-up day care. So, we found a trippy woman named Deanie who lives in our neighborhood and has cared for dozens of foster children and now runs a day care in her home. She was willing to take Jeremy as a drop-in, depending on the daily space available in her "Happy Kids R Us." Unfortunately, Jeremy was not a Happy Kid last Friday, through no fault of Deanie's. He woke up with green goop oozing out of his nose and rattles in his chest, and we didn't want to subject any other kids to his body fluids. Most day care consumers also know that you pay for the day, even when your child is sick. Since we had reserved a space for Jeremy for the day, cha-ching! So, the two mommies, neither of whom were earning any money that day, were paying $110 for the pleasure of watching our own son.

Odd.

On Sunday, we decided to visit our favorite Midtown creperie for brunch. Since Jeremy arrived in our lives, we have spent more time in raucous "kid-friendly" chain restaurants where the waiters are used to sweeping up Cheerios and other detritus from under the tables, and less time in hip eateries with interesting food and ambience to match. But Sunday, we felt brave, banking on the odds that Jeremy would sit through a meal with the help of our Cheerio/sippy cup/teething ring/bottle regimen combined with a little luck. On this beautiful Indian summer morning, the cafe was bustling, but our good karma opened up a table at the right time, and we began salivating in anticipation of our crepes. The waiters scurried back and forth past our table with plates full of waffles, crepes and scrambles. Barb & I drooled more. Jeremy dutifully munched on his Cheerios. Barb & I chomped at the bit. Jeremy happily scanned the crowd for interesting faces to flirt with. Barb & I began fidgeting. Jeremy slurped on his bottle, lazily swinging one foot. Barb ate one of Jeremy's Cheerios. Jeremy gnawed rhythmically on his plastic bubbles. I shifted in my seat, worried that we would soon run short on Jeremy's patience quota. My eyes yearned to lock gazes with our waitress, or anyone who would care. The staff mouthed disinterested platitudes ... "I am sure your order will be right up." But our karma ran out. An hour had gone by. The table next us got served within five minutes after ordering. Jeremy was ready to jam. Not that he was misbehaving by measure. No, he was just ready to move, like any one year old after sitting patiently in his high chair for an hour, and it was important for the experience to remain successful, at least for him. So, even after the anticipation and the drool over these particular crepes, we got up and left, with our stomachs rumbling loudly and our moods rumbling darkly. Jeremy continued to behave delightfully, unlike his Mama Nay, whose best shot at the cafe manager was that the service was "ridiculous."

We ended up at Quiznos. 

Trans Baby?

Jeremy is one amazing boy. Emphasis on boy. As a feminist, a lesbian who has spent perhaps far too much of her life thinking about gender differences among people, motherhood is teaching me that gender-based behavior may be more biologically driven than I would have believed. But, if Jeremy's flat head has more to do with his "male milk coma" than anything else, and if his belated babbling is just typical boy stuff, then so might be his fascination with the stairs, the irrigation system, and the dogs' tails. Truly, social construct can't explain certain predilections of babies, especially one boy raised by two moms? Can it? Sometimes Barb & I observe with an air of pride that "he just doesn't seem interested in toy cars and trucks," as if his failure to be impressed by wheeled vehicles proves we have been good liberal moms. But any loftiness is deflated by the fact that he LOVES real tires and wheels. Countless are the hours Jeremy spends examining, in painstaking detail, the spokes of bicycle wheels, the tires of cars and trucks and bikes, and the wheels of any real-life machines. He is beyond mere toys. Yeah, that's my boy!

The truth is, I love the way Jeremy expresses his unique boyness. I love how he is both energetic and contemplative, how he drinks in the scent of flowers as well as tire treads, how he is equally enchanted by the percussive tremors from drums as he is by the sweet notes of a flute, how he carries himself happily in his plaid shirts and his cargo pants, and how he takes equal pleasure in kissing his blocks and his dolls. When I look at him, I see nothing but the cute boy that he is and the confident and compassionate man that he will be come.

So imagine my suprise when, over the past week, a couple of different people have expressed confusion over Jeremy's gender! Huh? Seriously! Like yesterday, when he is dressed in navy blue from head to toe, and we met a lovely young woman who had a fluffy Akita puppy that Jeremy found fun. After remarking what a beautiful baby we have, she asked haltingly, "How old is ... your baby?" Clearly mindful of not offending us through the errant use of the wrong pronoun, but not sure which pronoun was right. Others have demonstrated similar hesitance. I tell you, I don't get it. I look at Jeremy and he is nothing but boy. At least in my eyes ... eyes which would as a philosophical matter prefer not to see gender so clearly. And others would see nothing but boy if they knew how happy he gets when he latches onto his penis. But at any rate I try looking at him through the lens of those who are meeting him for the first time to see if I can discern what is blurred. And the only thing that I see that might lend to the confusion are his luscious curly locks. Is that it? Really?

Whatever it is, the whole gender issue is confounding to me. And I imagine that being Jeremy's mom means that this is just the start of a lifetime of challenging experiences stemming from his boyness.

Continuing the Thought

As I mentioned, Jeremy is due back for a comprehensive developmental assessment at twelve months ... the appointment is day after tomorrow. The other day, Barb & I sat down to review what our concerns are. And they seem rather trivial now. More and more, his speech development seems to be falling into the "late boy talker" category that seems so prevalent, rather than anything more worrisome.

Then there is the eating issue. Compared to most of his age mates, Jeremy has remained quite tentative about anything that isn't smooth or pureéd. Now, even though he still doesn't eat very complex foods, just within the last week he has been more daring and actually enjoying chunky stuff that he normally would gag on and dramatically spit out. He has found new depths of joy in self-feeding in the last couple of weeks, and that is obviously a big part of why he is eating better. He loves scooping chunks of baked potato and cramming them in his mouth. Curiosity has replaced his previous angst over mouse-shaped macaroni and cheese. And the crust of fresh-baked pugliese suddenly became interesting and yummy, rather than an object to be feared. The bottle still maintains its exalted position in Jeremy's eyes -- and tummy -- but fewer ounces of formula pass over his lips each day. The [dinner] table is turning.

So, what's left? The walking issue? The archives of this blog document the fact that at seven months, Jeremy was walking around while holding onto his mommies' fingers. Everyone including his pediatricians predicted that he would be an early walker. And yet, ten days before his first birthday, Jeremy is still holding onto his mommies' fingers. He loves walking, and would walk every waking moment but for the fact that he won't loosen his grip. Physically, he could totally walk on his own. Maintaining the grip is clearly emotional or psychological. During our daily walking practice. Jeremy will often shake his head from side to side as if to say, "No no no I can't do it don't make me do it." And we mouth and gesture all manners of encouraging courage. And then he will take eight or nine plodding steps much like Frankenstein's monster. After lunging into our arms, he finally breathes, grins and then claps with joy. Unless he loses his balance before he lands safely, in which case he begins to whimper or cry. So, the question is, why would a healthy, strong boy resist his independence and prefer to hang onto to his parents for so long?

Life Rolls On

Even if the blog has been on the quiet side, Jeremy's world is not. In fact, Jeremy is babbling more and more, with every passing day.

Many have observed how quiet Jeremy is. First, people comment on how "good-natured" he is. Then, people (usually moms) sometimes say suggestively, "He is so quiet." The few bold souls among us will be so brave as to ask, "Does he talk at all?" His pediatricians have furrowed their brows.

An early developmental assessment at seven months resulted in an expected, if inconclusive, conclusion: he should be reassessed at twelve months.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, when Jeremy's babbling become more frequent and varied. It began when he began playing a tongue-sticking-out game with his Mama in which the goal is to make as many different shapes with your stuck-out tongue as possible. Bonus points if you can say "ah" while doing it. Soon after that, Jeremy started talking to himself more frequently -- when he is playing, when he is in his carseat, when he is hungry. He strings together different sounds of his own jargon. He experiments with different vocal sounds. He hums along to favorite songs.

Barb & I are estatic. Even if Jeremy doesn't have a "real" vocabulary like many one-year-olds do, it is clear to us that his word list is on the verge of being compiled. He says "og" (dog), "mamamama" when distressed, "tik" when being tickled, and "walk" (at least once) when wanting to walk with his Mommy. Even more exciting, he is responding appropriately to certain words-only questions. With every passing day, our concerns about Jeremy's developmental capacity are evaporating, and the possibilities for his life are blooming.

Synapses are Connecting

I can see it in his eyes, his smile, his flapping arms. These last five or six days, Jeremy is making rapid-fire connections everywhere he looks and during everything he does, and he is thrilled to be learning! After months of dumping things out of things, he suddenly started putting things INTO things. He drops the balls back into the gumball machine. He sticks the blocks into the giraffe's head. He pushes the ball through the round hole, the block through the square hole and the pyramid thru the triangular hole. He understands that "shake" refers to how his bottle gets mixed AND how he waves his noisy toys back and forth AND how Mama jiggles him for silly fun. He is jabbering up a storm. He hums along with his favorite songs, including Itsy Bitsy Spider, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and the theme from Peter and the Wolf. The best part is that a billion-watt smile stretches across his face during all of the a-ha moments. The excitement and hard work leaves him pleasantly exhausted and he is sleeping better, most nights.

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Follow Up to the Naked Shot

This picture was posted on October 25th. A couple of nights later, Jeremy was sitting on his Mama Nay's lap at the desk in the same room where this picture was taken, checking out his blog on the computer. When he scrolled down to this picture, he suddenly lurched forward towards the computer screen, and his gaze was unmistakably on the framed picture of his mommies. He froze. Then he spun his head on his cervical axis to the left and, with laser-like tracking, zoomed in on the picture of his mommies on the bookshelf. Wait a beat. Then spin back to the computer screen. Check. Big smile. It's the same thing! Whoa! 

The Occipital is Not Buckled

And that is good news, medically speaking. Most of you know that Jeremy IRL (in real life) has a flat head. On this blog, the frontal shots obscure that fact, mostly. This angle is more revealing.

When Jeremy first came to us, the back of his head was quite the drop off. The technical term provided by the craniofacial surgeon: a "lopped-off coconut." It has filled out somewhat since, but still is somewhat precipitous. So, we consulted a specialist who has studied plagiocephaly around the world. His verdict: Jeremy has "flat boy head" caused by "excessive milk coma" during his first weeks of life. In other words, boys are likely than girls to fall into such deep sleep after feedings when they are very young, which can lead to flat spots in the cranium. Consulting the specialist allieviated our Internet-fed fears of prematurely closed sutures or other horribles. Even better, Jeremy's surgeon is a big crusader against unnecessary surgery! I guess if he does his job well, he will be jobless in a few years. ("Would you like a cranial consultation with that order of fries?") He has published findings that gently chastise his peers for being too ready with the laser-knife or other protheses designed to mold heads in infants and toddlers. The doc assures us that with adequate doses of "food therapy," Jeremy's brain will push out the flat spot over the next 5-8 years. Jeremy's mommies are so relieved!

Glad the Adoption is Final.

 

Blowing the Sprinkler Horn

Jeremy spent most of Halloween evening out in the front yard playing with the hose and the sprinklers. The urban watering hole for the lion's pride. 

Simba?

This picture makes it seem like Jeremy enjoyed Halloween. That would probably be a stretch. 

Matching Jean Jackets

Mama Nay and Jeremy love dressing alike. Mama's jacket was a gift from Jeremy's Uncle Ross -- in 1982! It's unlikely Jeremy will fit in his 23 years from now. 

Mastering the Abacus

Jeremy and his mommies celebrated his eleventh month with an evening romp at the park. 

Mommy's Surgery

Here, Jeremy is prepping his Mommy for surgery. Barb began orthodontic treatment last year to correct a badly aligned jaw and bite. Basically, she has never been able to bite all the way through a sandwich or anything the rest of us take for granted. She was bestowed an open bite. Note that, in the picture below, Barb's teeth are closed. That is, as closed as hers ever got.

On Wednesday, October 19, Barb willingly allowed a team of doctors to break her upper and lower jaws in several places, realign them, screw them back together with titanium plates (this is not for do-it-yourselfers), and then wire her shut while she heals. Barb made me promise not to post her post operative pictures (which I can't resist taking) until she looks less like a jack o' lantern. With her swelling and multi-colored bruising, though, suffice to say that she looks a lot like Mr. Waternoose from Monster's Inc. Jeremy is somewhat bewildered by her appearance. But he thinks it is funny how she blows kisses from lips that look like she had a botched collagen job.

Eleven Months!

One month shy of one year. Key milestones to boast about:

1. Jeremy has a total of 6 teeth -- 2 on top and 4 on the bottom. They are sharp.

2. Jeremy wears 18-month clothing.

3. Jeremy loves to ride in his wagon. He can push it, too, all by himself!

4. Jeremy is a believer in the 10,000-steps-a-day campaign. Since he can't quite walk on his own yet, his mommies are walking 10,000 steps a day, too.

5. Jeremy loves his Cheerios (thanks to Caprice ... long story). He also seems to prefer orange foods, these days. Sweet potatoes, carrots, peaches. He also highly recommends the pizza crust at Original Pete's in midtown Sacramento.

6. Jeremy loves books. Tops on his reading list are: "Blue Hat, Green Hat," (thank you Lee!), "Good Night, Gorilla" (thank you, Sydney!), "Hip Cat" (thank you Janelle!) and "Music is Everywhere."

7. Jeremy loves animals. Dogs, birds, fish, and KITTIES!







8. Jeremy loves his mommies, very much.