Busy, busy, busy

Being a one year old used to be simple. Back when Nagypapa was one year old, if you didn't get eaten by a T-Rex you were happy. If you were lucky, you got a few rocks to play with. If you were really lucky, you even got some igneous rocks.

Nowadays it's a lot more tiring and complex. We have things like buildings and balls and cars and electricity and all sorts of things that a youngster needs to absorb and understand.

The past few days I've been working on my dribbling skills, both with a ball and drinking.

I've been running. A lot. Around and around and around the first floor laughing and screaming at the top of my lungs.

I love to dance and sing. I'll get a song in my head and just start moving my hips and singing. I get stared at and pointed at sometimes, but az apam says I'll get used to it.

You're probably saying to yourself, "Self, why doesn't Mate just relax and not stress about that stuff? He's only making his life more difficult by putting pressure on himself to do all these activities." The answer is that when at the end of the day I get to sit down with a bowl of blueberries and some crackers, I feel content and happy that I've had a productive day.