Dinky Walks!
Baby Steps
October 3, 2009
You were up and down all night: 12:30, 4, 4:30, 7, 7:30…You simply could not sleep. And consequently, neither could any of us. I headed your final outburst and took you away to let your mom sleep in.
We were both sick with sniffles and sore throats. After a hot shower, I changed you into a new outfit Jeremy sent you for your birthday (and which raised your coolness levels by about a year), and then I changed your socks and played funny songs to you on the ukulele. Meanwhile, you studied the Christmas lights we hung up in your room three nights ago.
You've adopted a new ultra-casual way of lying back on your pillow and checking out the world. And every now and again, you’d glance over at the chord I was playing on the ukulele, and you'd give me your sound—an offhanded “hmmm" (which seems to say, "Oh yeah, that").
Suddenly, you were actively crawling about the bed and checking out the contours of your room. You clomped and shuffled over stuffed animal, pillows and plastic blocks. You gave a sly look to the monkeys on the cover of your Nat’l Geographic book, then turned to give me an embarrassed smirk. Then it was off again. This time, you opened the drawer where we keep your diapers—“hmmm”—, pulled several of them out of the drawer and held them up to the light—“hmmm”. Then it was off to your toy box, where you struggled to reach a white and yellow plastic phone, which you promptly stuck to your ear. “Hmmm.” Then you were off again, clomping and shuffling to a box under your crib.
I was feigning sleep on the bed, but you kept turning to gauge my reaction to your every movement. You struggled to get the box out from under your bed, then you opened the flaps and discovered several dolls your mother had put into storage. You put your hand into the box and dredged up a big blue and white macramé doll with a plastic head. You gave the doll a big hug, clutching it tightly to your chest, then you put it back into the box and slid the box back under the bed.
You had purpose and direction and clear motivation. This wasn’t the same little girl from a week ago. For a moment I felt like I was catching the dog playing poker. You were a contented little explorer, charting the unknown regions of your room.
My eyes were almost completely closed, but you studied me for a long moment before continuing your work. You used the door as leverage to stand yourself up. One last look over your shoulder, and then you extended both your hands up toward doorknob. I thought, You know how doors work? When that project failed (Drat, still too short!), you began knocking and slapping the door with your hands (Somebody let me out!). Every few seconds you’d look back to ensure that the racket hadn’t woken me up.
“My little sweet Dinky,” I said. (Dinky has become my new favorite name for you.)
You turned and gave me a big smile. You were still standing, but you had turned completely toward me. I was holding one of your many toothbrushes. You LOVE brushing your teeth. You swipe the brushes from out of the bathrooms, and you carry them around with you everywhere.
“Do you want the toothbrush?” I asked.
You started to make a move, and you reached out your little hand, but I retracted the toothbrush a few inches. Then, you gave me the sweetest little knowing glance....and you took a step…and another…and another… After the third step, you collapsed into my arms!
Your first steps!
If your first steps weren’t enough, it was the most beautiful day of the year. The sun was bright and golden, but the temperature was cool and tolerable. We went to the farmer’s market and we walked back to the house and spent some time in the backyard. That night, your mother played music at a birthday dance party and we stayed home. You were in the best mood, right up to bedtime. I changed you into your pink frog pajamas and you reclined on your bed and stared at the Christmas lights. I put you into your crib, kissed you and told you how proud I am that you walked. And without even so much as a noise, you turned and went straight to sleep. It was the first time I was able to walk around turning off all the lights without you sitting up and crying. Today you are all brand new.
***
It is 11:37 on Saturday, October 08, 2009. I’m lying down in the upstairs bedroom of our house in Harrisonburg, VA. It’s a comfortable house with light colored wood floors. The windows are closed because the nights have become cold. And because I had to move the night blooming jasmine inside, the entire house smells like jasmine. I’m in an iron-framed bed with a white comforter. At the foot of the bed is a dresser and a flatscreen television. A movie is playing, but I’m not watching. I’m halfway between reading Foucault and writing about you. There is a smell of food coming from the downstairs, because earlier I made squash with tomatoes from the garden and onions and sage from the farmer’s market.
Your mother called twenty minutes ago from the airport in Seattle to let me know that you started walking in the Chicago Airport terminal during a layover. You were playing on the carpeting when suddenly…up you went, taking more than twenty steps at a time!
Dinky walks!
Your first order of business as a walker was to start games with the people in the airport by walking your ball to an area of busy foot traffic. With a “hmmm,” you then rolled the ball into the crowd to see who might return it to you. Then you’d chase after ball and begin the process again. When I called, you couldn’t wait to take the phone from your mom and tell me all about it. Only problem is, you can’t form sentences and so your mother told me you made the sign language sign for “milk” into the phone. This is a good sign. Milk if your favorite. At this rate, you’ll be talking by next week.
- Dad
Suddenly, you were actively crawling about the bed and checking out the contours of your room. You clomped and shuffled over stuffed animal, pillows and plastic blocks. You gave a sly look to the monkeys on the cover of your Nat’l Geographic book, then turned to give me an embarrassed smirk. Then it was off again. This time, you opened the drawer where we keep your diapers—“hmmm”—, pulled several of them out of the drawer and held them up to the light—“hmmm”. Then it was off to your toy box, where you struggled to reach a white and yellow plastic phone, which you promptly stuck to your ear. “Hmmm.” Then you were off again, clomping and shuffling to a box under your crib.
I was feigning sleep on the bed, but you kept turning to gauge my reaction to your every movement. You struggled to get the box out from under your bed, then you opened the flaps and discovered several dolls your mother had put into storage. You put your hand into the box and dredged up a big blue and white macramé doll with a plastic head. You gave the doll a big hug, clutching it tightly to your chest, then you put it back into the box and slid the box back under the bed.
You had purpose and direction and clear motivation. This wasn’t the same little girl from a week ago. For a moment I felt like I was catching the dog playing poker. You were a contented little explorer, charting the unknown regions of your room.
My eyes were almost completely closed, but you studied me for a long moment before continuing your work. You used the door as leverage to stand yourself up. One last look over your shoulder, and then you extended both your hands up toward doorknob. I thought, You know how doors work? When that project failed (Drat, still too short!), you began knocking and slapping the door with your hands (Somebody let me out!). Every few seconds you’d look back to ensure that the racket hadn’t woken me up.
“My little sweet Dinky,” I said. (Dinky has become my new favorite name for you.)
You turned and gave me a big smile. You were still standing, but you had turned completely toward me. I was holding one of your many toothbrushes. You LOVE brushing your teeth. You swipe the brushes from out of the bathrooms, and you carry them around with you everywhere.
“Do you want the toothbrush?” I asked.
You started to make a move, and you reached out your little hand, but I retracted the toothbrush a few inches. Then, you gave me the sweetest little knowing glance....and you took a step…and another…and another… After the third step, you collapsed into my arms!
Your first steps!
I was hugging you and kissing you and picking you up in celebratory flights. And you were so excited because you knew exactly what had happened. Then you plopped back onto the bed and put on your little black plastic rain hat with the yellow flower, and you sat there with what I can only describe as a silly expression. You hate wearing hats, but here you were, just as comfortable as ever.
It was too much. I ran you into the next bedroom and we woke up your mother to tell her the excellent news.
If your first steps weren’t enough, it was the most beautiful day of the year. The sun was bright and golden, but the temperature was cool and tolerable. We went to the farmer’s market and we walked back to the house and spent some time in the backyard. That night, your mother played music at a birthday dance party and we stayed home. You were in the best mood, right up to bedtime. I changed you into your pink frog pajamas and you reclined on your bed and stared at the Christmas lights. I put you into your crib, kissed you and told you how proud I am that you walked. And without even so much as a noise, you turned and went straight to sleep. It was the first time I was able to walk around turning off all the lights without you sitting up and crying. Today you are all brand new.
***
It is 11:37 on Saturday, October 08, 2009. I’m lying down in the upstairs bedroom of our house in Harrisonburg, VA. It’s a comfortable house with light colored wood floors. The windows are closed because the nights have become cold. And because I had to move the night blooming jasmine inside, the entire house smells like jasmine. I’m in an iron-framed bed with a white comforter. At the foot of the bed is a dresser and a flatscreen television. A movie is playing, but I’m not watching. I’m halfway between reading Foucault and writing about you. There is a smell of food coming from the downstairs, because earlier I made squash with tomatoes from the garden and onions and sage from the farmer’s market.
Your mother called twenty minutes ago from the airport in Seattle to let me know that you started walking in the Chicago Airport terminal during a layover. You were playing on the carpeting when suddenly…up you went, taking more than twenty steps at a time!
Dinky walks!
Your first order of business as a walker was to start games with the people in the airport by walking your ball to an area of busy foot traffic. With a “hmmm,” you then rolled the ball into the crowd to see who might return it to you. Then you’d chase after ball and begin the process again. When I called, you couldn’t wait to take the phone from your mom and tell me all about it. Only problem is, you can’t form sentences and so your mother told me you made the sign language sign for “milk” into the phone. This is a good sign. Milk if your favorite. At this rate, you’ll be talking by next week.
- Dad
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