Comin' From Where I'm From

On Friday we took you to see How To Train A Dragon at the local movie theater. It was your first movie theater experience and you were awed by the experience. You sat on our laps and stared at the screen with your mouth agape. A few times when the movie was a little intense you nursed with your mother, but mostly you sat and stared in total wonder. 

We now know that this wasn't the best movie for a 1 1/2 year old, but its the first children's film to play at the movie theater for a very long time. Because the show started at 5:20pm there were just a few other people there with their kids, and periodically you'd turn to watch them for a second before returning your attention to the dragons and the battle scenes. 

We've been wondering what sort of influence the pop culture is going to have on you. Horton Hears A Who is a concealed story about faith. And the Dragon movie mirrors the U.S. wars in Iraq where the enemy is only the enemy because they are themselves ruled by a despot. We've been watching the previews for children's movies with some sense of balance, but they've all become metaphors for military action of one sort or another. 

Tonight you wanted me to put the headphones on you so that you could listen to music. We sat on the bed and I plugged them into the computer while you struggled to put the headphones on...your knee. I helped direct them to your head, but they were way to big for you. Looking around the room, I noticed a pair of clean socks and I put them under the headphones to hold them in place. You were so adorable in your pink butterfly pajamas sitting on the bed with your legs straight out and the socks and headphones on your head. You were so serious as you intently waited for the music. So, to counter all the military action, I found an Anthony Hamilton video of the song "Comin' From Where I'm From" and put that on. 

You're eyes got very big and a smile passed over your expression like a summer rain. It was there and full and then it was gone. What remained was your seriousness for the task at hand. You watched the video on my computer and every now and then you'd wide-eyed in my direction before returning your attention to Anthony and the video. It felt good to equal out your pop experience with a classic, and I was thinking I'd write something witty and interesting about the moment--the look in your eyes, the recognition of a type of rhythm your mother and I tend to love--but I guess this is that entry. 

After watching Hamilton, we went to the grocery store and you suddenly became enamored with my face, which you kept gently kissing probably as a reenactment of of my kissing you. Then at home you became a little baby and crawled on the floors until it was time for good night. 

It's difficult to know which among these experiences will stand out or shape you in some way, but I guess that's the beauty of life. You never know. 

I love you, 

Dad

Oh, Look At The Little Baby

Tonight you were doing your normal routine: running around the house demanding to watch television one minute, needing cheese the next--which you then threw into a container outside--screaming about needing something in the kitchen, dropping to the ground to pick a squished raisin off the linoleum . . . with your teeth, chasing the kat, falling chin-first into the living room floor, climbing the bookshelf and throwing anything you could reach onto the floor, demanding a horse ride then crying when I put you on . . . when you suddenly noticed your binky.

Pause.

A serene look passed over your face as you reached out for the binky and put it into your mouth. You wanted down, so I stood you on your feet, but you got down on your hands and knees and began waddling around the carpet like an infant. You perfected the waddle and then took it on the road, into the living room where your mother was sitting. "Oh," she said, "look at the little baby."

You waddled up to your mama and wrapped your arms around her legs like it was all you could do. She reached down and picked you up and held you on your back in her arms singing children's songs. And you lay there so peaceful, looking around with very sleepy eyes, sucking on your binky and every now and again closing your eyes and snuggling into your mother's arms.

5 minutes of this and you wanted down. You then waddled across the room to me and did the same routine, acting the part just perfectly (eerily). Then it was back to the old Save for a little while, running, destroying, demanding. Then, a little later, you decided to be a baby again. And again, you played the part like a good little actress.

You are a funny little kid.

You wear me out, but you always leave me with something to laugh about or admire in you.

I love you,
Dad

Regressions

I have been selling a bunch of your old baby stuff on craigslist lately, and so there have been mountains of your old toys on the living room floor for people to come check out. This has engendered some really cute moments of regression. This woman was checking out your exersaucer (ahh, I have to admit I was a little sad to see that one go- but you had a cute short last voyage in it, and got to say goodbye to all the little people living on its rim. I mean it- you actually walked around and said goodbye to each one, and gave each a little kiss). Anyway, she was rummaging and you were helping you were pulling out all these clothes out of a box to show her with much chattering and ooohing and then you found a tiny little shirt and some cherry underpants and walked over and absolutely insisted that I take off your current outfit to put them on. The shirt was for 9 months old and it made no attempt to even cover your belly, but you were so happy to have it on and kept rubbing your chest happily. Then you went over to the jumperoo and jumped crazily and wildly for a half-hour (we pulled it out of deep storage the other day to sell, but you have been so fantastically happy to bounce in it I have decided to keep it for a bit longer).

The other day you found an old binky and you walked around the entire day sucking happily on it, even though you had never been much attached to it before (or any blankie or dolly, for that matter).  You took the binky out of your mouth only to press it against the mouth of your little toy horse and your little toy puppy, so that they could have a suckle as well. I was laughing and crooned, "Awww, are you my little baby? Does my little baby want to be rocked?" You smiled and so I picked you up in my arms and rocked you like a little baby, as you closed your eyes dreamily and sucked away.

-mom

Horton Hears A Who

Sunday morning, drizzly, quiet house, sick daughter. You woke up sad and in pain from various things (teeth, swollen runny nose, crusty poop-butt) and it took a long hot shower with your dad to make you feel better. Then you ate five cherry tomatoes for breakfast and sat and watched Horton Hears a Who, for like the 27th time in two weeks. (concerned anti-TV people- not to worry- she only watches snippets at a time).

The major theme in your life continues to be: balls. Cherry tomatoes- you saw the tantalizing round and yellow balls in the fridge and said "ball? ball!" excitedly. We haven't had cherry tomatoes since last summer, when they were a central feature of your little baby life. And whenever you want to watch your only favorite movie (Horton), you ask for it by pointing at the TV screen and saying "Ball? Ball?" This is because the movie starts with a big weed seed ball that knocks into a sunflower and bounces a tiny little ball (the speck of dust) into the air, to float over a tantalizing jungle. It was like, made for you. Plus, as a bonus, there is a big silly elephant and a pink flower. I really don't know why this one particular movie has so captured you, but you are fiercely loyal to it alone and to no other cinematic experience.

So this morning: at first, you were happy sitting on your green stool at your usual station, but then you got a little sad and so we finished watching it together, with you sitting on my lap with my hands clasped around you like a seat buckle. You insisted that the arms stayed tightly wrapped around you. It was so cute. Then we nursed by the fire and you got really sleepy and I put you to bed in your crib, tangled amongst your softest stuffed animals, and you sighed happily. 10am: a full two hours before your usual nap. You must really not be feeling well. As I was shutting the door you looked up at me and gave me the happiest grin, lifting your face to the ceiling because that is the joke.... you look up at the ceiling and we tickle your neck under your big moon face. Then you collapsed onto the bed and were out. And I am going to go paint. I love you, sweetie
-Mom

Savanese for Beginners

Dear Sava,

It is a warm Sunday afternoon in Harrisonburg, and already we've had a full day of adventures, linguistic and otherwise. At the moment you're sleeping in your room, I'm at a coffee shop struggling to make sense of my notes on subjectivity, and your mom is painting a picture of a bird in her makeshift studio in the dining room.

It's been a busy week for you. Lots of growing and learning and the accompanying aches and pains. It's now clear to me why so many baby diaries seem to drop off at around this time in the baby's development (or rather, it seems to answer the question as to why the entries into my own baby book suddenly stop around this time. It's not that your parents don't love you, they just barely have the time to catch their breath let alone write). You're so active when you're awake that when finally you stop . . . we typically all stop.

We've been spending a little more time together these days while your mother paints and teaches her workshops.  Last Thursday night we went on a little date to eat soup at the Vietnamese restaurant in town. You cried a little when I took you away from your mama, but soon we were having a great time. You tried all the different things in my soup, you loved the crab spring rolls and, of course, you couldn't get enough of the sauce. (You love yourself some dipping sauce.) Afterwards, we drove to the pharmacy to buy liquid bandage for your thumb (you burned it pretty bad after reaching up to touch a hot pot on the stove). We had such a great time at the pharmacy. You were running down the aisles making the little grunting sound you make when you want to be chased, then you'd stop and face the racks with a blank expression and immediately set to work reorganizing the deodorants and bottles of shaving gel into a pattern you could live with. Then it was off down the aisle again... At one point you noticed a giant image of a baby hanging high on one of the walls and you gave it several running-start kisses.

At home you were unhappy again because your mother wasn't around, but we had a good time playing and reading. But while turning the page on one of your books, you got a paper cut on one of your fingers and the surprise (you seemed to think the book bit you) and pain sent you completely overboard. You weren't just crying, you were sobbing. I held you very close and you placed your head on my shoulder and cried and cried while I hummed a chant. Soon you feel asleep on my shoulder and I walked you over to the bed and lay you down and stroked your head until you fell asleep. As I was leaving the room you said in a sad little voice, "m'night."

Every morning you awaken alive and alert and ready to take on language. It begins with the consonants (mmmmmmmmm rrrrrrrrrrr lllllllllllllllllllllllllll) and eventually leads into a combination of vowels and consonants (mrluh mrluh mrluh mrluh mraluuuuuuuughungaloooooo mraluuuuuuuughungalreeeee). Eventually, you begin throwing in the words you know (mraluuuuuuuughungaloooooo da da da da rlu rlu rlu mah muh MUH! MUH! Mama? Mamdah? Dog?). It's the cutest thing to hear you piecing together language, building it up from the raw chunks. And as you have learned how to speak, we have also learned how to interpret. It might be said that we've met each other half way with language. We now speak a little Savanese. Here's a rough translation guide:

Muh! = a kiss

Dah? = dog

Meeah = cat

Op = all done

Cah? = car

Bah bah = ball (your favorite word/shape/concept)

And "aaaaaaaaaaaaaa [long pause] waaaaaaaaaa-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" = teething pain, hunger, fatigue, unfilled desire, etc.

Of course, this list pales in comparison to your animal noises list. You now know how to speak like a fish, a shark a snake, a duck, a bear, a monster, a dog, a cat, a horse and a goose. A couple of these don't have sounds so we've made up good approximations.

Yesterday you had the chance to cycle through all of these in Staunton. We took you to see the giant koi fish and the ducks and geese at the park. Then we took you to a toy store where you got to ride a mechanical horse that was such a rambunctious ride I thought you'd be thrown off. But when it ended you couldn't stop crying about needing another ride. Then we went and ate German food -- where you flirted with a boy your age -- and then off to a party, where you ran nonstop, chasing the dog.

And although you had a bad night due to teething pain, this morning you were up again bright and early, talking, humming to yourself and making cute little noises in your crib. Because your mother was very tired from tending to you in the early a.m., we sneaked away to breakfast and the park (where you insisted on walking over all the leaves and snow and rocks you could find) before returning home to nap.

Now it's time for me to return home and nap along with you before you're up again, running around the house barking and mewing and giggling until bedtime.

Love,

Dad