Sava in Spring

 

Sava in Springtime: Assorted notes. 

For my birthday party, we had an Easter bbq in the backyard, and we strung the tree with a bunch of plastic easter eggs that Emi had filled with jelly beans. We left them up for a while. I wonder how this event is going to imprint on your brain, as you have now had weeks of an experience in which candy really does grow on trees. You see the tree and you point and squeal "yay!" while nodding your head up and down vigorously. This is your main method of manipulation at present: you have learned to present your case with the utmost conviction and affirmative body language. So it is, "Mommy + (sign language for milk) + (nodding head vigorously) + "Yesh!"  You reserve that special "yay!" though, for the easter egg tree, and the easter egg tree alone. There are four jelly beans left. 

Your language skills are becoming ridiculously good. It is to the point where I can say almost anything and you will try to repeat it. Even conjunctions. Two syllable words. "Armpit" "Elbow". My favorite words to hear you say right now are: "Horse"  (Whoarse)  "Butterfly" (Bird-fly) and.... "Elephant" (alollyluhlalala)

Our favorite You-tube video is "Giraffe Baby". You point out its eyes, its ears, its mouth (mouw) its nose, and its tongue. With books and games, it is mostly now this game of pointing out things you recognize and naming them. Goodnight Moon is a favorite- you like to call out the socks, the shoes, the moon, the kitties (titties) the cow (moooo). You have recently become very aware of trains... and every time  you hear a train whistle blow (which is often around here) you perk up and squeal "choo choo!" You seem to have amazing hearing... can pick it out even when it is subtle and dwarfed by other noises. So I found this amazing vintage edition version of "The Little Engine That Could" and it is your new favorite book. You point out the giraffes "graff" and the elephants and you can also find the tiny little monkey in the middle of the pile of toys and you go "hoo hoo hoo" as you curl your arms up to tickle your armpits in a perfect imitation of a moneky. So monkeys, choo choo trains, and horses are big right now. I have a book called Horses- basically an encyclopedia of all the different types of horses in the world- and your dad likes to walk you through the book. "Sava, what's that?" (Whoarse!) "Okay. What's that one?" (Whoarse!). "Hmmmm. This one?" (Whoarse!). You are tremendously patient with him and will answer him endlessly, with the same degree of enthusiasm. Another game he likes to do is to point to a horse and ask if it is a kitty. Or a dog. Or a fish. And you say "nooooo", each time, very patient with your (by all appearances) dim-witted father. 

Nico is "Doh" and Noble, (when Lauren and Tyler came out to visit last weekend for Jamba's birthday) was "Momo".  You are starting to enjoy counting, but usually chime in on the "two" which sounds more like "dew" and fall off the wagon around "twee". But you are really good at pointing at your fingers while doing it. And a couple of times, when we asked you how many things were on a page, you answered with the correct number. Luck or brilliance.. who knows? Who cares?

Games

Here are four favorites... one's that you even initiate by yourself when you are bored or want to liven up the situation:

1)Your dad invented a game during car rides, when one person says "ummmmmmm.......... "and then blurts out the first random syllabic word nonsense that comes to their minds. For Jamba and I, it is usually "ummmmmm.... pencil fart! donkey breath! swizzle stick" or some other such nonsense. You are more of a minimalist and a true nonsense poetic genius. "ummmmmmm..... dert!" "ummmmmmm....twollylo!" Jamba and I have agreed that the moment in which you are saying "ummmmmmmm......" with your little nose and upper lip pulled down over your mouth, is the absolute cutest Sava moment that has ever been.

2) You got really excited about yelling "uuupppp,  DOWN!" for awhile. For example, while getting your diaper changed, you would lift your legs up, and then yell "Down!" as they were falling down. 

3) Jamba would point up to the ceiling to get you to look up when he wanted to tickle you under your chin, and so now when you want to tickle somebody you point up and say "Der!" and then go "tee tee tee" while waving your little fingers at their body parts.

4) "Shh Shh, Hi!"  One time we were all lounging in the bed in the morning and you suddenly said "Sh sh, Hi!" and I couldn't figure out what you were saying, until I realized that you were telling us to "Shush" and "Hide!", because you heard Nico clambering up the stairs on her way to jump on the bed, and now it is our favorite way of initiating a sudden mad dive under a pile of pillows.

Our Little Crow

You are picking up funny little turns of speech.. whenever you want something to come along with you (which is often), you say " 'mon" as you are looking back over your shoulder. (I guess I say "C'mon Nico!", "C'mon Sava!" a whole lot).  Jamba had congestion for about two months so there was a lot of throat clearing around the house, and you started mimicking him whenever you heard it. He would be upstairs getting dressed for work and clearing his throat and you would be downstairs eating breakfast with me and start doing it between bites of yogurt.

Bee Poop

Jamba got a bag of bee pollen and has been feeding you spoonfulls of it... he says "Hey Sava, do you want some bee poop? Sava, do you want some "bzzzz plllop" And you just love it. He has gotten you to make the sounds when you want to eat it.

Trust

Total lack of fear. Total trust both in the universal friendliness of all dogs and in your physical prowess. The ability to do an amazing amount of things that should be beyond your physical ability. Like jumping on the trampoline for minutes without falling... catching yourself in the middle of stumbling and righting yourself. The other day I was gardening and I turned away for one minute, and when I looked up you had made it clear across the garden and had climbed up the chair and were wriggling onto the trampoline of your own accord.  You are so fast it is frightening. Not surprisingly, you have been accumulating battle scars.... scraped knees and elbows and bandaged digits and even one blackish eye (from running into the bookcase with your face). We are going to have to send you off to Amy for capoeira boot camp soon. Your dad is really worried.

Fear

The only thing you seem to be afraid of right now is puppets and little boy penises. Mom gave us these cool hand puppets...I guess they can be considered scary (one is a three-headed dragon called a hydra, the other is a two-part puppet where one hand plays the frog and the other the prince.) You were totally into the frog puppet and gave it a bunch of kisses, but when i pulled the prince around and started talking, thanking you for transforming him into a prince in a very elaborate, silly voice, you got real quiet and solemn, and in a really small voice said "no", while you backed away. It was the same little "no" that you gave when you saw your first little boy penis, in the wading pool with your neighborhood friend Elliot.

Gender Lines

Although you get really excited whenever you see a truck, and yell "truck!", I have to admit that you are aligning yourself along standard party lines. For instance you are totally absorbed with babies.. You have about three of them of various sizes and squishiness at present. You love watching babies on youtube videos. You are extremely interested in feeding your babies and giving them water. Especially putting them in the booster seat for a little snack. (But really, you like to feed and water all of your toys. You have tried on a number of occasions to give your little horsie some breastmilk, graciously stopping mid-nurse to bob his head at my nipple (while making little slurping noises).  I said, "oh honey, one day you will learn that you can lead a horse to ... " oh, never mind.)

Your obsession with shoes continues... and also your maddening drive of de-shodding yourself constantly... especially whenever in the car seat. I do the same amount of shoe changes that a mother of quadruplets would. Choosing new shoes and demanding that these be the ones that are put on now. You are constantly with one shoe on, and one shoe off. I have no idea that such a thing could be a genetic trait. 

And lastly, you call "socks"  "gocks"

-love, Mom

"Mommy, I draw!"

My Sweet Sugar Monkey, 


It was a warm evening. The sun was shining into the studio in the backyard. The studio side door was open, and the ivy that usually grows up the door was now laying beautiful and emerald against the dark wood of the flooring. 


You were completely naked; your face was filthy and your hands were colored with various pastel colors. Acoustic music was playing on a laptop (Gregory Alan Isakov, the music that played when you came into this world) and you were taking turns hopping, spinning, dancing and making little pastel chalk marks on a canvas Erin had propped up against the door frame.


You were too busy with this routine to give me little more than a few big smiles. Then you hopped several times in a row, rushed to the canvas to add a bitty purple line, and then smiled up at us and spoke your first real sentence: 


"Mommy, I draw!"  


We cheered and did a little dance around the room, which you loved, but after than you went right back to single syllable words:: "shoe" "eye" "sick" etc. 


It's beautiful and poetic: Mommy, I draw. 


I love you, 
Dad

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