Ice, ice, baby

On New Year's Eve, Maya's Dadima and Grandpa arrived in Tijuana for a much-anticipated three week visit. Ironically, they've arrived from sub zero Toronto, with snow up to their knees, into Tijuana, temps in the low teens, and not a snowflake on the horizon, but my, it's so much colder here. Because, of course, those hardy Canadians have it figured out. Their houses are geared up for the cold, and they're all toasty warm during their indoorsy winters. Meanwhile, the cold of Tijuana doesn't really warrant super-insulated, state-of-the-art centrally heated houses, so we shiver our way through the cold months, huddling around feeble gas heaters and wearing far too many pairs of socks.



With all this hard work battling the cold, our bodies have succumbed to bugs, and Dadima, Maya, Clifford, Margot (the twins from next door) and I have all had an array of colds, running noses, sneezing, coughing, sore throats, and eye infections.

Despite all this, Maya is delighting in the company of her grandparents, and keeping us all entertained with her new antics. She's a barrel of new tricks these days, and in the past month or so, she's started clapping, waving hello and goodbye, putting things in boxes or bags and pulling them out again, pushing all the chairs (and anything else she thinks might prove a decent object to hold her up) around the living room, wiggling her bum in time to clapping or music, repeating sounds, and (just) standing up on her own, unsupported, for a few seconds. A definite precursor to walking, but we're trying to put her off that particular 'trick' till papa comes back to Tijuana next week. She's exploring everything she can get her little hands on, and finds the following objects infinitely fun: gas bottles, water bottles, tissue packets, the paper bag full of plastic bags, the kitchen cupboards, the kitchen stools, the dining chairs, her shoes, my shoes, my hairbrush, remote controls, cellphones, keys. She's our wee explorer, and is happiest 'trawling' about looking for action.