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.

dad

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?

dad

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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