July 13, 2006
Yet another step away from babyhood, that is how this past month has felt. You body has lost some of it’s fullness and roundness. You do things with more purpose, more control over your body. Your little bowed legs have grown and straightened, which is good since it used to look like you just jumped off a horse’s back.
You have developed a temper. You get angry at me and will come over with your little fist and try to hit me. I have to stop myself from laughing because the amount of fury in your tiny body over not being allowed to crush every granola bar in the cabinet is astounding. I will hold your little fist and tell you, “No hitting.” This will cause you to throw yourself onto the ground and cry.
This past month you have grown more teeth. All four of your molars broke through and continue to grow through your gums. It doesn’t seem to bother you in the least. Perhaps,unbeknownst to me, your father has given you the “pain is weakness leaving the body” pep talk. But now that you have teeth, you feel entitled to use any toothbrush you find, regardless if it doesn’t belong to you or belongs to the Clorox I scrub the tile grout with. All I have to say is, “Is that your toothbrush?” and you will turn and run away with it as fast as you can, clutching it to your chest, screaming. I hope your obsession with dental hygeine lasts, because I am getting pretty tired of telling your older brothers to brush their teeth twice a day and having them look at me like they have never before seen a toothbrush.
The excema that you have been plagued with in recent months, has cleared up significantly since we put you on the elimination diet, and really how could it not since you can’t eat anything anymore. I set you out in the yard to graze and luckily you aren’t allergic to grass. It’s a good thing that you are at a completely reasonable age and don’t care if you get an empty ice cream cone to eat while everyone else has cones overflowing with ice cream and sprinkles. Yeah, right.
Your appointment with the allergist is next month, so hopefully we will have some kind of answer then and you will be able to enjoy some overprocessed junk food as is the right of every American child. And your ever so helpful siblings will able to leave their snacks laying around and you will be able to eat them when you find them. Instead of the way it works now, which is they leave the snacks laying around, you find them and begin eating them, only to have them snatched out of your hands by those same well meaning siblings.
This month you have discovered how to power your Little Tykes car in a forward direction. This has resulted in much joy and celebration for those of us who didn’t particularly enjoy pushing you around the driveway. Okay, the “us” I speak of is me. Me and my aching back. Your brothers are usually all to happy to send you down the driveway at mock speed, with their own bodies splayed across the car roof. They still don’t understand that your feet get trapped under the car and dragged under the car, and that you don’t like having the tops of your feet and toes skinned by the ashphalt. Yeah, you are such a baby.
And yes, I did cut your hair again last week. But this time I think I did a good job. Your hair is so fine and fluffy and has turned quite blonde from the summer sun. Having your hair cut short makes you look so old and boy-like.
You now run. Your body stays completely upright, your arms held straight out from your sides, hands flopping from the wrist down. Your legs are the only thing that are running. I love it. I love the way your chubby little cheeks still jiggle when you run. It makes me want to chase after you and bite them like they are little mounds of jello. But I have to be content with tackling you in the yard and kissing those cheeks until you beg to be let up.
When does that cheek jiggling stop? I don’t know, but as I look around at your siblings none of them run slack jaw and have their cheeks shake. I want so badly to remember you like this.
You still don’t like to talk very much , preferring instead to point and grunt. Most of the words that you do say sound amazingly similar and are only decipherable based on the context in which they were used.
Words that you use frequently:
teet : teeth
ouch: used very dramatically
daw-daw: all done, complete with hand movements
hello: usually said when you have stolen my cell phone
Speaking of baseball. You love baseball. You love watching baseball. I’ll tell you to show me how you swing. You will stand with you feet spread and assume the hitting position and swing your imaginary bat. It is a kind of cute that defies description. I think that your father is feeding you treats behind my back everytime baseball is on television, training you like Pavlov’s dog. Otherwise I just have no explanation for your giddy reaction when we switch channels and happen by ESPN.
or maybe it is the snowcones I buy you at the games. The ones you spill out onto the grass and i keep scooping back up into your pointy cup, until you have eaten it all, leaving behind only bits of grass and dirt at the bottom of the cup.
I love you. And every day I am thankful for you, my little surprise, my little cabosse, my little pita pocket.*
(pita pocket for my new readers is a shortcut name for “pain in the ass pocket sized version” that I began calling Miles when he was a wee cranky babe. And I say it with love.)
to see the whole set, and really why wouldn’t you. click here
RSS feed for comments on this post.
The URI to TrackBack this entry is: