10,000 Hours

Hi Everyone,

My name is Vera Maria Clogg-Wong, and my daddy invited me to write this week's blog entry. Sunday was my first time ever walking on a basketball court, and it was great.

Apologies to Mr. Steve to whom I gave the cold shoulder. White guys with facial hair look scary to me but don't feel bad. I did the same thing to my grandfather last week when he visited for my birthday.

Mr. Andrew didn't get the same treatment because me and him go way back. He came to my house, ate a large amount of red meat, drank many cans of brown liquid, and made funny faces at me before I went to bed. Maybe my spatial recognition is better, but Mr. A, you look a lot bigger compared to the last time I saw you. Your calf appears to be the same width as my head.

Speaking of size, I weigh 21.5 lbs and stand 2'6" with no shoes. I am a bit pigeon-toed right now, but Auntie Amanda assures me that it will correct itself as my muscles and tendons strengthen. I get daily leg massages from my dad (he thinks it stimulates ligament growth), and I would appreciate any tips on how to avoid ACL problems later in life.

I was amazed by the blur of colour and energy as you adults ran up and down the floor. Once in a while I saw the orange round thing appear at my eye level, and then it would disappear for long periods of time somewhere up in the sky. My daddy tells me that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to get a three-point stroke like Uncle John, a pull-up like Auntie Carrie, and intestinal fortitude like Mr. Dunner. That seems like a lot, given that I have only been in this world for9,120 hours total.

By the way, the final numbers on the scoreboard were 117 and 78. I assume we won because my daddy was extra happy the rest of the day as we walked in the sunshine at Kits beach.

See you all soon,
VMCW