(no subject)
I often think that, if I could achieve half as much in a year as my son has in the first fifty-two weeks of his life, I would be a much more productive person than I am now.
He was born weighing 7.1 pounds and was 21 inches tall. Now he is a whopping 24 pounds and is 32 inches tall.
Just two months ago, he had two top teeth and two coming in on the bottom. Now he has EIGHT FULL TEETH. I don't know what to do with him. He has a shock of beautiful, shiny, wavy light brown hair which is desperately crying out for a first haircut.
When he was born, he was pretty much interested in nothing except being fed and sleeping. Now, his interests are so wide and varied and expanding every day that I can hardly keep up.
He has this ridiculous little car that plays "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" while the wheels spin frenetically. He loves to flip the car upside down and watch the wheels; he holds his index finger on the tire to feel the vibrations. Now, when he wants me to play it for him, he looks up at me with an expectant smile and sways back and forth, like he's dancing, until I press the button. When the song is over, the process begins again, until something (and oh dear God am I praying that something) distracts him.
I sign "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to him, and he doesn't quite have the sign for "star" down yet, but he really tries, moving his little hands all over the place to mimic my gestures.
Everywhere we go, he points to the lights and makes the sign for light. In the mornings when I get him out of his crib, he will point to the light on his ceiling and then point to the light switch on the wall until I take him over to it and let him flick the light off and on.
He doesn't say many words besides "Babbo" (really, he says "Ba-boo") and "Mama," but he imitates animal sounds. He especially loves the rooster; his voice gets really high pitched as he lets out a "ah-ah-ahah-ooooooooooo." If you cough, he'll cough; if you say "argh" like a pirate, he'll say "argh"; if you say "vroom vroom" like a car, he'll copy you. If you make a kissing noise, he'll kiss you right back. When he drops something on the floor, he'll look at it and say "Uh-oh." He waves hello and goodbye, using his whole arm from the elbow to his fingers. He knows a lot of words, even if he can't say them. He knows light, star, book, ball, nose, mouth, Curious George, Pooh Bear, car, baby, cup, train - in the sense that he can point to them or bring them to you when he asks for them. When you show him a photo and ask "Where's Mommy?" or "Where's Babbo?" he points right to us.
When you ask him, "Where's Thomas?" he points to his own chest.
He loves spinning things - wheels, tops - and with any new toy he will spend the first few minutes trying to discover if or how he can make it spin. He loves flashlights. He loves bubbles. He loves playing in/with water. He loves bouncing on his Rody horse. He loves crawling through tunnels (which I make by draping a blanket over the sofa and a chair) and hiding behind the recliner. He loves staring out the window at the cars. He loves playing hide-and-seek and peek-a-boo.
He loves all kinds of kids' songs - lately, it's been "Once an Austrian Went Yodeling," "The Ants Go Marching," and "This Old Man." He loves Curious George and Thomas the Train; the smile he gets on his face when I sing him the theme songs is just amazing. He loves taking paperback books and flipping the pages quickly, like you would if you had drawn a cartoon on the edges of each page and wanted to see it move. There are stories he adores: "Who Stole the Cookie From the Cookie Jar?", "Goodnight Moon," "Jamberry," "I Love You Through and Through." If you name him any of those books, he'll crawl right over to his bookshelf and bring it out to you. He loves sitting in Chris' desk chair and spinning around and around and around until he gets so dizzy that he falls to one side. For a moment he sits there staring off into space like a drunken man, then he smiles and moves his head in crazy circles and fusses until you spin him again. He always wants to play with our electronics - the TV, the remote, the computer keyboard, the laptop, the calculator, the cell phones.
He likes to watch me play the flute; he'll reach out for the flute, inspect it carefully, then push it back up to my face, as if to say, "Well, go on, Mommy, you can't stop now."
He likes to watch me cook. And he likes to play with my cookbooks. He likes watching the microwave when it's on.
He loves being thrown into the air. He loves being bounced vigorously on someone's knee. He loves standing on our bed, holding my hands, and flopping backwards onto the pillows.
He hasn't quite figured out finger paint or crayons yet, but we're getting there. He can drink from a straw and use a spoon for his pudding and yogurt (though not wout a considerable amount of mess). He likes grilled cheese sandwiches, cinnamon raisin bread with cream cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, peas, corn, peaches, mangoes, smoked mozzarella cheese, Cheerios, Polish sausage, animal crackers, yogurt, pudding, lasagna, grapes, pizza crust. I have a hard time with meats - he refuses deli meats, ground meats, pretty much everything except for Polish sausage (although I did get him to gnaw on a Chik-Fil-A chicken tender while we were at the mall). And lately, if you're eating while he's eating, he'll whine and point at your food or drink until you let him try some (this becomes a particularly difficult problem if you're having a glass of wine or drinking your morning coffee). He loves playing with Diet Coke cans and ice-filled styrofoam cups.
Whenever he's about to do something new, he'll pause and glance up at me, waiting for my reaction. If I say "No," he's generally good at listening; if it's something he really wants, though, he'll burst into tears. Once I was trying to fix a broken cabinet in our bathroom while Thomas sat in his Exersaucer watching me. I wasn't doing such a great job, and I looked at him and said, "Darn it, Thomas!" He immediately started wailing, as though I were upset with him. It made me feel horribly guilty and wonderfully amused, all at the same time.
The excitement he gets when I come home, or when Chris comes home, is overwhelmingly elating. His whole body gets into the action - he grins, waves his arms, kicks his legs, then holds out his arms for a hug. Then he'll follow you around faithfully as you put down your things, take off your coat, and settle down, only to hold his arms out again for another hug. Then, he just wants you to play.
He is a total flirt. He grins at old ladies and plays peek-a-boo with the young ones. He will try to explore the faces of other female babies, pointing to their noses, sticking his finger in their mouths, trying to hold their hands. Somehow he reacts to boys differently; young men are generally greeted with awed stares.
But there's one person whose affection he doesn't have to do anything at all to win. He has my heart already. And when I hold him in my arms for a last good-night hug - well, I don't think I've ever felt more complete.
He was born weighing 7.1 pounds and was 21 inches tall. Now he is a whopping 24 pounds and is 32 inches tall.
Just two months ago, he had two top teeth and two coming in on the bottom. Now he has EIGHT FULL TEETH. I don't know what to do with him. He has a shock of beautiful, shiny, wavy light brown hair which is desperately crying out for a first haircut.
When he was born, he was pretty much interested in nothing except being fed and sleeping. Now, his interests are so wide and varied and expanding every day that I can hardly keep up.
He has this ridiculous little car that plays "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" while the wheels spin frenetically. He loves to flip the car upside down and watch the wheels; he holds his index finger on the tire to feel the vibrations. Now, when he wants me to play it for him, he looks up at me with an expectant smile and sways back and forth, like he's dancing, until I press the button. When the song is over, the process begins again, until something (and oh dear God am I praying that something) distracts him.
I sign "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to him, and he doesn't quite have the sign for "star" down yet, but he really tries, moving his little hands all over the place to mimic my gestures.
Everywhere we go, he points to the lights and makes the sign for light. In the mornings when I get him out of his crib, he will point to the light on his ceiling and then point to the light switch on the wall until I take him over to it and let him flick the light off and on.
He doesn't say many words besides "Babbo" (really, he says "Ba-boo") and "Mama," but he imitates animal sounds. He especially loves the rooster; his voice gets really high pitched as he lets out a "ah-ah-ahah-ooooooooooo." If you cough, he'll cough; if you say "argh" like a pirate, he'll say "argh"; if you say "vroom vroom" like a car, he'll copy you. If you make a kissing noise, he'll kiss you right back. When he drops something on the floor, he'll look at it and say "Uh-oh." He waves hello and goodbye, using his whole arm from the elbow to his fingers. He knows a lot of words, even if he can't say them. He knows light, star, book, ball, nose, mouth, Curious George, Pooh Bear, car, baby, cup, train - in the sense that he can point to them or bring them to you when he asks for them. When you show him a photo and ask "Where's Mommy?" or "Where's Babbo?" he points right to us.
When you ask him, "Where's Thomas?" he points to his own chest.
He loves spinning things - wheels, tops - and with any new toy he will spend the first few minutes trying to discover if or how he can make it spin. He loves flashlights. He loves bubbles. He loves playing in/with water. He loves bouncing on his Rody horse. He loves crawling through tunnels (which I make by draping a blanket over the sofa and a chair) and hiding behind the recliner. He loves staring out the window at the cars. He loves playing hide-and-seek and peek-a-boo.
He loves all kinds of kids' songs - lately, it's been "Once an Austrian Went Yodeling," "The Ants Go Marching," and "This Old Man." He loves Curious George and Thomas the Train; the smile he gets on his face when I sing him the theme songs is just amazing. He loves taking paperback books and flipping the pages quickly, like you would if you had drawn a cartoon on the edges of each page and wanted to see it move. There are stories he adores: "Who Stole the Cookie From the Cookie Jar?", "Goodnight Moon," "Jamberry," "I Love You Through and Through." If you name him any of those books, he'll crawl right over to his bookshelf and bring it out to you. He loves sitting in Chris' desk chair and spinning around and around and around until he gets so dizzy that he falls to one side. For a moment he sits there staring off into space like a drunken man, then he smiles and moves his head in crazy circles and fusses until you spin him again. He always wants to play with our electronics - the TV, the remote, the computer keyboard, the laptop, the calculator, the cell phones.
He likes to watch me play the flute; he'll reach out for the flute, inspect it carefully, then push it back up to my face, as if to say, "Well, go on, Mommy, you can't stop now."
He likes to watch me cook. And he likes to play with my cookbooks. He likes watching the microwave when it's on.
He loves being thrown into the air. He loves being bounced vigorously on someone's knee. He loves standing on our bed, holding my hands, and flopping backwards onto the pillows.
He hasn't quite figured out finger paint or crayons yet, but we're getting there. He can drink from a straw and use a spoon for his pudding and yogurt (though not wout a considerable amount of mess). He likes grilled cheese sandwiches, cinnamon raisin bread with cream cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, peas, corn, peaches, mangoes, smoked mozzarella cheese, Cheerios, Polish sausage, animal crackers, yogurt, pudding, lasagna, grapes, pizza crust. I have a hard time with meats - he refuses deli meats, ground meats, pretty much everything except for Polish sausage (although I did get him to gnaw on a Chik-Fil-A chicken tender while we were at the mall). And lately, if you're eating while he's eating, he'll whine and point at your food or drink until you let him try some (this becomes a particularly difficult problem if you're having a glass of wine or drinking your morning coffee). He loves playing with Diet Coke cans and ice-filled styrofoam cups.
Whenever he's about to do something new, he'll pause and glance up at me, waiting for my reaction. If I say "No," he's generally good at listening; if it's something he really wants, though, he'll burst into tears. Once I was trying to fix a broken cabinet in our bathroom while Thomas sat in his Exersaucer watching me. I wasn't doing such a great job, and I looked at him and said, "Darn it, Thomas!" He immediately started wailing, as though I were upset with him. It made me feel horribly guilty and wonderfully amused, all at the same time.
The excitement he gets when I come home, or when Chris comes home, is overwhelmingly elating. His whole body gets into the action - he grins, waves his arms, kicks his legs, then holds out his arms for a hug. Then he'll follow you around faithfully as you put down your things, take off your coat, and settle down, only to hold his arms out again for another hug. Then, he just wants you to play.
He is a total flirt. He grins at old ladies and plays peek-a-boo with the young ones. He will try to explore the faces of other female babies, pointing to their noses, sticking his finger in their mouths, trying to hold their hands. Somehow he reacts to boys differently; young men are generally greeted with awed stares.
But there's one person whose affection he doesn't have to do anything at all to win. He has my heart already. And when I hold him in my arms for a last good-night hug - well, I don't think I've ever felt more complete.