Yesterday, during a post-nap diaper change:
Me: Did you have a good nap?
You: Yeah.
Me: Did you have nice dreams?
You: Yeah.
Me: What did you dream about?
You: Dinosaurs.
Me: Dinosaurs?! Were they trying to eat you?
You: Yeah.
Me: Oh no! What did you do?
You: Run.
I’ve been slacking, I know. Here are some quick observations until I can work up a real post:
After today’s round of immunizations, you are done with shots until kindergarten!
You like candy corn.
We’ve noticed you rocking out to The Gourds and Rilo Kiley in the car.
Pop-Tarts are off limits. They make you evil. I haven’t figured out the science, but the connection is there.
You can identify ducks. You can also quack (“Kack! Kack! Kack!”).
You like playing with peoples’ bare bellies, including your own.
You’re pretty good at navigating around the room in one of your mother’s shoes.
You’re still the coolest kid I know.
That’ll teach me to be optimistic.
Had to take you to Dr. Mohammed’s office this morning. You now have a sinus infection and an ear infection on top of your strep.
Since you were born, protecting you has been our number one priority, and the task is seeming more daunting everyday. Seeing you suffer because of something invisible and inevitable, knowing there’s so very little we can do is absolutely soul-crushing.
But we do what we can.
Like there’s nothing else to do.
What a weekend. What the urgent care center told us on Friday was just a virus turned out to be strep throat. I’ve never seen you more pitiful than you were this weekend.
I write a lot of things here for posterity, but I doubt that your mother and I will ever forget the feelings evoked by a 106-degree thermometer reading. Or the way you refused to swallow Friday night, the way you smiled and even laughed through closed lips that were damming a reservoir of spit you just couldn’t swallow. Or the way we had to hold you down when the doctor wanted to check your throat. Or the way you spit medicine all over the place.
I know I won’t forget the way you woke up on Sunday, smiling and ready to play. Ready to put the whole ordeal behind us.
I’ve read enough Entertainment Weekly and watched enough of The Soup to know that when you do something that necessitates a call to the Poison Control Center, it’s really just a cry for attention.
And fair enough, really. I’ve been neglecting this little bloglet. I shall attempt to update it more often, aiming for at least one new post a week.
For now, I suppose a bit of catch-up is in order.
- You’re walking now. Running, actually. And climbing. Scaling. You would probably rappel if we got you a My First Rope and Descender. But seriously, you’re a daredevil. Standing on your Stride-to-Ride walker. Pushing bags of blocks in front of the couch so that you can climb up onto the cushions. You can almost climb up the stairs from our basement faster than I can.
- You’re eating a lot more. More in terms of variety, not volume. Sometimes we struggle to get you to eat what seems like enough. Other times, you’re eating us out of house and home. You’re really big on the fruit — grapes and strawberries are your favorites. You’ve gotten really good at dipping foods and you’re getting better at using utensils. And here’s your first Oreo:
- You continue to be a fantastic dancer.
- Although you’re 14 months old, we’ve yet to get your one-year pictures taken. You keep scratching and bruising your face. But you are learning to leave Band-Aids on.
- We are having some problems with you in the interpersonal relations department. You went through a biting phase that turned into a kissing phase, but now biting is rearing its head again. And maybe it’s because you’ve been home with your mother so much this summer, but as you’re spending time at day care again, you’re acting a little evil. Walking on other kids’ toys, pulling their hair, threatening to bite little babies… Hopefully some time-outs and a more regular schedule will get you straightened out.
All in all, you’re an OK kid. The best I’ve had, anyway.
It’s been a while since I’ve checked in. A lot of that time I thought I’d have to write to/about you has been spent dealing directly with you. And that’s certainly not a complaint.
So you were really sick a couple of weeks ago. Puking all over the place, and the worst diarrhea I’ve ever been involved with. We’re pretty sure you got it from the Children’s Museum in Indianapolis. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have a picture of you putting the actual germs in your mouth. We were pretty concerned about you. You had to stay home from day care for several days. You even had your first in-home babysitting session with my mom and sister.
The whole ordeal lasted almost a week, and when the virus had run its course, you snapped out of it with more energy than ever. I must confess, however, a little disappointment at your recovery’s timing. Our next step, at the orders of your buddy Dr. Mohammed, was going to be having your stool tested by the Floyd Memorial lab to make sure you didn’t have rotovirus. I was mortified by the thought of carrying a bag of your poop around, but at the same time, I knew if that happened, you’d owe me big time. I’d have my old man phrase. I was already thinking of ten years down the road, when you’d refuse to do something I ask, and I’d get to say, “Boy, ten years ago I carried a plastic bag full of your repugnant crap around a hospital, looking like a fool and smelling like an ass. I think you can carry that bag to the garbage can.”
Oh well. We’ve still got some time.
By the way, here’s Volume One of your series of ultimate Mix CDs:
“A Little Bird Told Me,” Blue Lu Barker
“Bacon Fat,” Andre Williams (Mr. Rhythm)
“Beans And Cornbread,” Louis Jordan
“Cap’n Kirk,” Bob Schneider
“Carrie Anne,” The Hollies
“Come Go With Me,” The Del-Vikings
“Come On Down To My Boat,” Every Mother’s Son
“Flowers On The Wall,” The Statler Brothers
“I’m A Believer,” The Monkees
“I Walk The Line,” Johnny Cash
“Jump In Line (Shake Señora),” Harry Belafonte
“Let It Out (Let It All Hang Out),” The Hombres
“Little Bit Of Soul,” Music Explosion
“Midnight Confession,” The Grass Roots
“My Blue Heaven,” Frank Sinatra
“Peanut Butter,” The Marathons
“Rag Mop,” The Ames Brothers
“Some Kind Of Wonderful,” Grand Funk Railroad
“Spring Again,” Biz Markie
“Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses
“The Longest Time,” Billy Joel
“The Tide Is High,” Blondie
“Who Put The Bomp,” Barry Mann
“You Talk Too Much,” Joe Jones
“Zak And Sara,” Ben Folds
P.S. You weigh 21 pounds and 4 ounces. Front-facing car rides are just a few yogurt binges away. And stop scratching your face.
Even though it was a little cool, we bundled you up and took you on your first lap around the walking trail at Community Park. You rode in your stroller most of the way, but you insisted on being carried over the finish line.
Next time, we’ll bring treats for the geese.
Tonight, we let you use your own spoon. We loaded it up with yogurt, handed it over to you, and every time you put it right in your mouth.
It’s hard not to miss the helpless little baby you were mere months ago, but it is absolutely amazing to watch you develop. Maybe I should be trying to track down a string theory board book.
It’s been a trying day already.
You woke up way too early this morning. We discovered you’ve been chewing your bedrails to shreds, just before you bonked your head squarely on one of them. After you had your bottle, you spit up all over me. And once you were all dressed and ready to go, you had a diaper blowout.
But we still love you.
You’ve been standing for seconds at a time. You taught yourself how to clap. You’ve learned how to navigate the hallway from room to room. You played in the snow for the first time. And you’re getting much better at using a sippy cup.
Trying day, good week.
