All Kina wants is to be able to say she knows somebody on the playground without her parents making a whole deal of it. Is that really so much to ask?

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I’m not trying to say that we talk a lot in this house, but it makes sense that Kina finds real joy in speech. The older she gets, the better she is at exploring the nuances of her feelings and experiences, which is gratifying to all of us. There are times, maybe, when it maybe feels better to her than it does to us, but I don’t take it for granted. It feels good, to me, for her to talk—on balance, given the alternative. I can wait my turn.

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The Daily Kina would like to remind you that Autumn does not technically begin for another week and change, and that you should continue with your summer protocols until the Autumn Equinox officially arrives. Do not—repeat, do not—purchase Halloween costumes, bust out scarves, drink pumpkin spice lattes, or perform any other customary cold season rituals in a rush to escape this unseasonal humidity and heat; the side effects of moving too quickly into Autumn could result in bored and sad children throughout New York City.

For the purposes of this mandate, “you” shall be construed to include deciduous trees. Keep those leaves high. We have months yet to grow weary and dry. Enjoy the moment.

I was just now trying to find old issues of this newsletter that talked about how conflicted I was about the idea of someday no longer writing The Daily Kina, and I couldn’t find anything—which either means that I’m really bad at search engine optimization or really bad about acknowledging this elephant in the room.

It’s possible, of course, that I’ve mentioned it here or there in the midst of talking about Kina’s weird relationship with time or in one of the many anniversary posts, but it’s more likely the case that I just haven’t mentioned it.

I may have mentioned here or there that I originally planned to do this for a hundred days—which is what I consider the high bar of success for a new hobby—and then planned to go until she started kindergarten, or maybe for a year, or until the vaccines came out, or, or, or, or, or…

It is apparently the case that you “cannot get in trouble” in Mr. Ortiz’s class, but we are following up to confirm these allegations.

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Off to the races with this tall person who claims to be my baby daughter.

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She explained to me at bedtime tonight that embarrassing is the same as annoying, and when I tried to point out the ways in which embarrassing somebody is different, she agreed that I was annoying.

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Smoosh.

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You all may feel that a little chill in the evening air signifies the end of summer. For these girls, it is when Futura gets back from Italy. Let the autumn commence.

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Our publisher would like to announce that, having finally tested Covid-negative after nine brutal asymptomatic days, she is declaring our three-person newsroom Covid-free and cleared for beat reporting once again. The masthead will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you for your continued subscription to the Daily Kina. Wear your masks.

It’s back! Parade is back! I bought Kina a box full of adhesive googly eyes for entertainment last week, and she’s put them to good use here on her suspiciously trippy mushroom. One for the ages!

Straight into the middle like a psychopath.

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This whole process of being The Sick Family again has been interesting. A lot is different this time around: We know how the virus works, we are fully-vaccinated, we came prepared with tests and food. Similar, of course, are the tedium, the patience, and the isolation.

Now that Laurea and I are negative, we’re able to go into stores and ride subways and see people (in principle, if not in practice). But Kina is still fully asymptomatic and positive, which means that the person to whom friendship means more than anybody else here cannot see her friends. She trades videos with children she knows, but she spends time with us—the only people guaranteed to have full immunity to the strain of Covid she’s waiting out.

In the onset phase, there was lots of iPad time—the kind of iPad time that would summon the wrath of countless parent bloggers, a fearsome amount of iPad time. In those first couple of days, it seems that Kina watched, in her loft bed, the entirety of a Rapunzel show I did not even know existed.

Gotta love that pockets still inspire this sort of wonder.

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I don’t remember getting this wound up about class assignments as a kid, but the tree names probably help a lot with the drama.

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Over the last few weeks, I have spent literal hours watching Korean ASMR baking videos and memorizing every possible cake baking and decorating technique. The cake I ended up making is a testament to how little you can actually learn from YouTube. Tasted good, though.

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Come for the parental slander, stay for the detailed anonymized list of actual crushes.

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This is all going pretty nicely for the kid, in that she has had our undivided attention for five days now. If it wasn’t for the bit where we actually have Covid, I think I’d tell you that we are enjoying ourselves as well. It was a beautiful weekend outside, but you all missed out on the party here at our house. A party full of forts, movies, baking, and intermittent naps. We have been here before, reader; we know how it’s done.

No Parade today. Kina missed the deadline, despite never leaving the house. I’ll give her a pass. Here’s last week’s, which she finished on Monday.

Wear your masks, people!!!

We’re not exactly writing King Lear over here, folks. Good news for the newsletter folks: I’m negative now. Give the rest of my captives a couple more days. I’ll keep her entertained with tummy farts in the meantime.

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The convalescents will not be taking questions at this time. (We are fine, though, thank you.)

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We are getting by. Thanks for the love. Paxlovid works, but it makes your mouth taste funny.

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As most of you know, this esteemed publication was founded in the wake of our first bout with Covid as a family, to stave off boredom and try to find meaning in it all. This time around, we have boxes of rapid tests and know how to isolate effectively, so the boredom is sequestered, as I am in this room, to me. So far, I’ve received at least four notes and one performance of Beethoven’s 9th symphony to keep me occupied. The paper helps, too.

My case is mild, and I have what I need to get better, thankfully, but the spike in cases is real, folks. Wear your masks and kiss your children—not in that order.

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This is actually something Kina has hated for a while now. It’s just easier for her to think when we aren’t talking, and if something occurs to her in the middle of a story that one of us is telling, we can see the spark rise and extinguish itself, and then we get an earful. The solution might be to stop talking entirely, so that Kina can think of important things to tell us all the time, but that seems somehow impractical in a house (like ours) of constant talkers. I really do feel her pain, and I’ve spent countless hours trying to backtrack through conversations and other friendly encounters to figure out what it was that caught my fancy; truth be told, I hate it. But I’ve come to live with it—and to accept the wispy shape of my own thoughts. It’ll come to me, much as Kina has. Just have to be patient.

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p.s. If you can’t read it, the thing she finally remembered she needed to ask me was, “Was Pokémon alive when you were small?” The answer is no. Sorry for the trouble, Kina.

A real Wonderland is probably something I also wanted when I was six, because it seems like a fun place to be when you’re a kid. As an adult, all I can think about is how stressful it would be to live in constant fear of the local warlord queen.

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The peaceful sleep in one’s own bed upon returning from vacation is almost as good as the vacation itself—especially when you barely slept the night before. Kina took great care to memorialize her latest wake-up time in recent memory, drawing an enormous 7:41 on leftover sketch paper while her parents slept for another 45 minutes. Bliss.

In over three years we have never been late with a Parade, and yet there is no Parade today. Our printing facility apologizes; there is a Parade that we will deliver to you tomorrow. It is “not done yet”. Our regrets.

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After the first three random false alarms on our last night in Maine, this really turned into a sort of cruel joke.

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If you have not dug your hole, have you gone to the beach at all?

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If you think about it, motels are just storage units for highways.

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This afternoon, she just went and finished the 150 piece puzzle on her own. Give this kid a MacArthur grant!

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I don’t make ‘em up, I just transcribe ‘em.

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It got a little boomy at the beach.

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Up in Maine for the next week as we gorge ourselves on ice cream and let the Cousins Coconut bathe with each other.

Kina drew this at a local lobster pound. I basically had to trick her into making this a Parade.

There was a really torrid crush triangle involving Joel Margolis, and Laurea had to pause just a bit before moving on.

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Milestones, in short:

1. One week

2. 100 days

3. Until school starts

4. At the end of the pandemic (ha)

5. One year

6. After kindergarten

7. Two years

8. When she asks me to stop

9. Three years

10. When she’s lived more days as the publisher of The Daily Kina than not, which is today, more or less—something I realized only as I drifted off to sleep last night and reminded myself furiously to recall first thing in the morning. Imagine writing a daily newspaper about your newborn child for the first three years of her life, until you are stopped in your tracks by a global pandemic and a terrible bout of Covid. Imagine that everything stops. Now imagine the inverse, in which your child is three years and four months old, and that same pandemic shocks you into a realization that today matters, and you draw a moose on construction paper for your kid. Imagine you do it the next day. Now imagine just… continuing? Forever, presumably? That is what this feels like. It feels like a second chance that just spools out into the rest of time, or until she asks me to stop.

11. Who knows?

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Every once in a while, I have a solo moment with Kina that just consumes me; I will never forget this one (but I will always forget Glimmer from She-Ra, sorry). Also: I realized halfway through this edition that should have painted the sunset first, because all my markers are water soluble. Another thing I will always forget.

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I forgot how much I loved these things, and now Kina loves them, too.

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Use your hearing chances wisely!

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Kina really likes the sound effects on today’s edition, and she says the drawings are “actually pretty good”.

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This isn’t as simple as saying Kina doesn’t get animism, but it’s a very specific form of it that includes houses, sidewalks, bikes, and strollers. It’s a walkable urban animism.

There’s a fine line between minimal and lazy in art, and I’m going to give Kina the benefit of the doubt, because we are all a bit tired here.

Yes, I do know how to sew. No, I am not sure I could produce a non-creepy doll version of Laurea.

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I’d go for at least three weekend days, for the record.

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They are just so tall!

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It’s rare that Kina wakes up after us, so you can rest assured that Laurea and I were less concerned about this state of affairs than Old Man Kina.

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This is an activity that athletic Sloane and bouncy Kina vociferously agree is amazing.

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It was a real roller coaster up there. I’m exhausted!

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Just got home. Very tired. No Parade. C’est la vie.

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The fog has been the most welcome guest during this last week of vacation—a welcome respite from the punishing heat of New York, a dream to jog through, and always conscientious about leaving room for the sun to shine in the afternoon. Kina enjoyed every bite.

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She fell asleep not long after saying this, so I’m not sure what there is to learn from a little curious princess, unless you all can think of anything?

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Went to the legendary Tonga Room for the first time last night with some of Laurea’s oldest friends, and Kina made herself right at home with the Pulp Fiction dance scene vibes.

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There is no 50% in this child’s life. Everything is adventure.

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Our marriage is as old as Bali, who was a newborn when Laurea and I tied the knot. Now she is by far the closest thing Kina has to an older sister—despite the fact that she is actually the closest thing Laurea has to a younger sister—and she is doing just a great job of it.

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