Adam has taken the Posh Tots catalog away. This is probably for the best.

Today La Lu visited the zoo, where she rode around in her Baby Bjorn and encountered the animals she's thus far only met in Sandra Boynton books. "Look, Lucy! But not the hippopotamus!"

We had a wonderful time. At least, I think she had a wonderful time. Although it's likely that she couldn't actually see and, thus, appreciate, the various lemurs and okapis and the wild dogs (the ones who say "Hey! Are your parents home this weekend? No? Let's party!"), and was basically just going for a walk.

Also, it's frickin freezing here. I feel so cheated. It's like we went from the miserable sweaty heart of summer to the ice-cold grip of winter with about ten minutes of fall in between.

And, not to bring up an old topic, but baby socks are killing me. KILLING me!

I remember before Lucy was born wondering how in God's name I was supposed to launder and keep tabs on little itsy-bitsy scraps of colored cotton.

Well, turns out that the cleaning and care-of is the least of my sock-related problems. My real issue is keeping the damn things on her feet.

Lucy, it seems, likes to be barefoot. Likes it a lot. So I put a pair of cute little thumb-sized socks on her in the morning. Five minutes later, they're lying beside her, and she's giggling like she acccomplished something great.

I put on the socks. I put her in the stroller. Twenty minutes later I pull her out of the stroller, and she's only wearing one sock, and the other one is nowhere to be found. Where did it go? I have no idea.

I'm flirting with the idea of footie bottoms, but they've always struck me as more pajama-like than daily attire should be. And I'm trying different brands. And I'm carrying an extra blanket so if nothing else works I can always wrap that around her legs and thus escape the dirty looks of little old ladies crying "You need to cover her feet!"