We made it a month!

There's a Chinese tradition of holding a Red Egg Party, alternatively known as the Full Moon Party (but not the type you'd find on a Thai beach). It marks the end of mom's confinement, baby's debut to the world, and the announcement of her name. Instead of waiting for a full moon, it's now celebrated more often on the baby's first month birthday.
So, we put on such a bash, hosted by generous grandparents and Chopsticks Chinese Restaurant in Vancouver, WA. We put together some dandy invites for friends and family, but omitted a menu, instead, just telling folks that there would be traditional appetizers and then plenty of food for the main course. Well, things started off slowly, with our round-eyed guests picking cautiously at the cold boiled chicken, marinated jellyfish, pickled seaweed, and thin broth that was initially offered. Several sated themselves on these meager offerings, only to be greatly chagrined when the twelve courses of fish, fowl, beast and more commonly-consumed invertebrates started coming out rapid-fire as the kitchen got up to speed. The duck was to die for, the dungeness was delicious, the braised beef was never more beautiful, and the scallops were simply stupendous. Followed up by several exotic desserts and the old standby of mango pudding in goldfish molds, there wasn't a soul who didn't find a dish to delight in, and leave stuffed better than a thanksgiving turkey. The neighborhood kids all seemed to have a fun time, and Ruthie is developing quite a fan club, with future baby sitters even jockeying for first dibs.

Let the sinning begin..

Now I'm not an irreverent chap when it comes to truly reverential topics, but I do think I've noticed a small end to innocence after Ruthie's baptism. Instead of an infant's plaintive wails, there's definite anger in some of those cries, and an occasional glare that I recognize as the same one rarely received from her mother.

Nonetheless, the baptism was a great event; expertly handled by Fr. Armando at our church; St. John The Evangelist in Vancouver. Ruthie's paternal grandparents were able to make it across thirteen time zones from the Abu Dhabi to serve as godparents, and the church choir that Ruby and I sing with not only came up with special serenades for the ceremonial dipping, but also joined us for a luncheon afterwards.

Toilet training accomplished, what's next?

Surely he jests! Well, only in a sense. You may have already heard of the growing practice around diaperless babies, thanks to infant toilet training. Turns out that this is nothing new, just an ancient wisdom that western culture 'convenienced' itself out of. Anybody who's been watered by the Young Faithful geyser that eminates from baby boys when they feel fresh air has wondered whether junior did that on purpose. Again, in a sense, they're right. Babies know when they go, we just train it out of them, especially with modern diapers that don't even feel wet and uncomfortable, just warm and soft... (the gel-filled diapers actually undergo an exothermic reaction as they soak up water, making baby's butt warm and comfy).

So, the official Ancient Chinese Secret to this practice is to immediately after every feeding, perch baby's butt on the edge of the potty, lift her legs, and stroke her belly while saying 'pisssssss'. Now, the Chinese just say 'ssss', but I couldn't resist one small modification.
Grandma Chan had advised we start this once she was several weeks old, but when Ruthie gave several clear cues before polluting her very first bath, we decided to begin the field trials.
During week one, we were about 50% successful at the throne, and now in week 2, it's edging on 75%. I calculated (yes, I actually did) that the activity only saves @ $4.20 per hour in avoided diaper costs, but the avoided changes, diaper rash, and pain to Ruthie is priceless, plus, there is significant entertainment value.

We are leaving her in diapers as insurance, but hope to be actually soiling relatively few of them...