We can get him dressed and ready to go to church on time. But we can’t keep his shirt tucked in and we can’t get him to stop eating his tie. It’s OK with me: he’s so cute, and I don’t think he’ll chew on his tie when he goes on his mission.
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Here are some pictures of Paul playing in his playpen last week, just before bedtime. His new pajamas say “I’m so SLEEPY.” He doesn’t look it in the pictures!
Then there are two pictures from the next day.
Paul’s fifth tooth appeared today. Not sure when. I just noticed it when he awoke early from his afternoon nap! That is three that came in the past two to three weeks!
I have more pictures. I’ll try to post them tomorrow.
We of course didn’t have a holiday this weekend, but Saturday was a lovely winter day: about 55 degrees and sunny! Daddy was able to get away from his weekend work for an hour midday, so we took a family walk up to the park. Paul went on a swing for the first time!
I also took him down the slide. He wasn’t very impressed. By the walk home, he was tuckered out.
It was a delightful day!
P.S. Paul is nine months old today!
I’ve started signing to Paul, every sign I can remember. The day after I started signing everything, he started babbling with his hands. The only sign he has consistently made is “More” and it looks like a clap. He signs it for everything: when he’s been in the bath long enough, when he’s ready for a drink of milk, when he wants to eat, when he wants more food, when he wants something. Obviously, he doesn’t know what it means, but he knows it communicates something.
It’s quite cute. Now it’s just a matter of time before he figures out that other signs mean other things and that this sign means something in particular.
And now I need to teach him “please.”
P.S. Tooth four, the other top tooth, came in this morning.
Paul’s third tooth (the top middle right) has pushed through the gums! He also has had a cold so he wasn’t very happy this weekend. But he’s finally sleeping and seems in good spirits.
I made a fun tunnel for Paul to crawl through out of the foam alphabet letters. I was excited for Paul to crawl through it. He didn’t really get the point.
At least I had fun!
Paul is such a happy boy.
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I was so hungry. I kept saying, “Mommy. I’m hungry. Feed me now.”
But she stood over by that “microwave” thing and stirred. I know what food looks like. I could see my food. It looked yummy. I wanted to eat it.
“Mommy! Feed it to me!” I called out. “Mommy!”
But still she kept stirring.
Finally, she came over with my food. It was mine. I could tell. It was mine, not hers. She had a spoon all ready for me. I sat up and smiled.
Here it comes! I thought. It was my food, and I was going to eat it. I laughed.
Mommy blew on my spoon of food. Then she made it fly all over the room. I had a hard time following it with my eyes. Then it landed-in Mommy’s mouth!
“MOMMY! THAT WAS MY FOOD! HOW DARE YOU EAT IT!”
I was mad. And Mommy was laughing at me.
How dare she!
Every recess, my best friend and I ran to The Tree at the back of the playground. We circled it three times and entered our world. Sometimes we escaped a spider’s web. Other times we traveled a tight rope in a circus. We went somewhere together, as long as we walked around that tree.
In the summer, we met in the middle of our street with our bicycles: her bike was red and mine was blue. As soon as we got on them, though, we were no longer school girls but “cops and robbers” or “Gold Medal winners.” As long as we stayed on our bicycles, we went somewhere.
When my friend wasn’t available, my brother and I opened our basement door and walked down. When we reached the third step, we entered Ijona (“ee-john-a”), a world beyond the solar system where my brother was King (I think) and “table” meant “chair.” Sometimes, by the third step, waves would splash our toes. Other times, we searched for the exit in a three-story castle, facing all sorts of challenges on our way. We went somewhere, as long as we reached the third step.
Somehow, though, my worlds — our worlds — disappeared. I learned to drive. I went to college. I got married. I moved 16,000 miles (literally — I moved from Chicago to Australia).
I was going places in life.
And yet, as an adult, I no longer go anywhere. Three steps into the basement only take me three steps down.
I didn’t realize I was missing it.
Last week, my eight-month-old found his reflection in a three-inch metal fixture on his bathtub. One moment he was splashing by himself: the next minute another bald baby was laughing with him.
He was fascinated by the baby. I watched as he leaned forward and tried to push his yellow sailboat through to that other world: the other baby tried to share his yellow sailboat at the same time, and they were unable to share. No matter: my son was happy to giggle together.
Now, every time I put him in the bathtub, I think about his reflection-friend. Will he remember? Will he seek out that magical world that is just waiting to delight him? He’s just now entering a world of infinite creativity.
My days of going places may be past, but now I get to experience a world of creativity through my child. I’m so excited to watch him go places I can now only imagine.
To my son, my daily delight
(True response to June Write-Away Contest “Going Places” at Scribbit.)