newsletter: month eight
A couple of weeks ago Mark and I took you to a drum and dance. It was your first—on the outside. I was hoping that all the drumming I did while you were swimming around in your own personal sea world had programmed you to like this sort of thing. And you did! You stayed up all evening, well past your 7:30ish bedtime. You grinned like a fool, dancing there with Mark who was kind enough to wrangle an admittedly delightful you so I could drum some. You were mesmerized by the other drummers. You didn’t miss a thing.
And that was a tiny event, just a few people. I should really take you to Amherst next.
In the meantime, you’re not wasting a minute. You’ve had a, like, month-long growth spurt. People are asking whether you’re a year old. I have no idea how heavy you are at this point, but the speed with which you’re gaining weight has outstripped my body’s ability to build up muscle. Which I need in order to keep throwing you in the air, one of your favorite activities. So, you know, slow down a little.
On the recommendation of your pediatrician, also known as my adored primary physician of many years, I’ve been reading The Scientist in the Crib. You’ll be surprised to know that in the early 21st century, we’re still in the infancy of our understanding what the hell goes on in your rapidly developing mind-body. But we do know a substantial number of interesting things, and by golly, they’re all right in that book, well written and everything. I was already convinced, mostly from memories of early childhood, that babies have insanely rich inner lives. But TSitC has given me an even greater appreciation for every new skill you acquire:
- passing stuff from hand to hand: isn’t it heady, how you can manipulate (heh) TWO HANDS at the SAME TIME?
- scooting backwards would totally be crawling forwards if you could, but you’re still building up the power
- you can throw your body around in the high chair and propel it on its little wheels—unless I put the brakes on them, preventing you from getting to the fun kitchen drawer
- you have A TOOTH and use it on every food you can get your mouth on, including oatmeal, bell peppers, apples, beef stew, ice cream, tomatoes, daikon-like radishes in hot pot soup, Russian sauerkraut dumplings, bread, cucumber, and a million other things I’ve now lost track of
- oh, and you might be beginning to wean yourself, though I would request that you not be in a hurry on that one
- when you’re sleepy but can’t find a comfortable position, you’d really rather be left to your own devices, thanks, and not “helped” because sheesh you can get comfortable on your own
…You know, life. I try to pay attention and write things down, but there’s just so much. We play with the hallway light pull string. You open your eyes a little wider to take in the brilliant yellow goldenrod flowers growing along the Esplanade on the Charles River. You’re into contours—containers, borders, shadows. You like Jon Stewart and Doctor Who. You’re living every moment.
I’ve had two dreams in succession in which you spoke. In full sentences. In one dream you demanded ginger tea. Can hardly wait to have teatime conversations with you, babe.
-Mama (who, as usual, has placed more visual evidence here)