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Thursday, June 17, 2010

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

14 months

27 May 2010

Dear Asa,

I remarked to your dad yesterday that I had expected to feel sad about your getting bigger. It goes so fast, and so many people seem to miss those baby days. I thought that I would hate to see the infant slipping farther and farther away. And sometimes, I do feel that twinge of longing for the tiny babe you were. Just a twinge really, momentary, fleeting even. Because most days I am simply excited. Every day you learn something new. Every day smarter, more adept and cheekier too. With each new morning comes something that I didn’t think of. We interact more, play more, and communicate more. I think I see the little boy that you are becoming and I am truly excited to play with him, to explore the world with him and discover new things.

This week you came right up to me, sitting here, working on this computer, and you started to whine. Clearly you wanted something, but something you couldn’t sign for and couldn’t yet say. So you fussed for it and grew increasingly frustrated as I listed all the things I thought it could be. You only lost it more as the list grew longer. Finally a little light lit behind those blue eyes. You grabbed my hand, led me to the couch and pointed right underneath it. And there it was, your blanket, your favorite, softie little blanket crammed way under the couch just out of your reach. I retrieved the blanket and was quickly rewarded with the best smile in the world. This same scene has played itself out numerous times now – the cracker on the counter, the door to outside, the toy on the kitchen table. The only problem now is that you think that as long as you can accurately convey what it is you want then I should always get it for you. That’s a tough one with the shiny cutlery, the chocolate stash and every door that leads outside. But we’re getting there…

Two new teeth have popped through in these past few weeks, both little molars. You’ve skipped your canines for now and headed straight for the big guys. They look red and angry (and so do you!) when they’re about to break the skin and every time I look at them I feel a mental ouch. But everyday you want more and new things to eat, so I think these molars will come in quite handy. So far you’re still willing to eat most anything I put in front of you, so long as you’re allowed to feed it to yourself. Fruits are still a big favorite, especially strawberries, and anything that requires the use of a spoon gets a big smile. Your grandmother started giving you sheets of nori (plaguing me with childhood flash backs) and you love them. Seriously. I even encouraged you to spit it out, because c’mon, that’s gross. But no way. You absolutely love them. In fact you see the little package of them on top of the fridge and know exactly what they are. You point right to them and sign more. Even if you haven’t had any yet that day. Always more. And at this point you know that sign usually gets you what you want, so it works for now.

You’ve started a sort of fake laugh this month and it never fails to inspire true laughter in those listening. You usually use it to get attention, or remind me that you would like to be a part of it too, thankyouverymuch. Your dad and I are talking, giving one another our attention and you play with the bouncy balls your grandmother loves to buy you. As soon as you think you need to be a part of what we’re doing you come over, stand between us and let out a little riot of fake laughter. As if to say, “ha, that is funny mom. You know this one time I….” just to insert yourself into our conversation. And, obviously, it works. Nice one kiddo.

Now that the weather has begun to warm we head across the street to the park a couple times a week. I’m always glad to have my big dark shades there, because I get teary watching you play nearly every time. There’s something about watching you run across the yard and heave yourself up the steps – tiny tennis shoes flying, arms swinging wildly, with little squeaks and squawks escaping you as you go. You seem so big, look so long-legged and child like. No babies here. And for a fleeting moment, for the blink of an eye, I feel that twinge of sadness. And then so quickly, almost like it was never there, the joy floods in and replaces any trace of sadness. That’s my boy, I think, my son. And I am playing games with him at the park, watching him point to the swing and sign more, letting him lead me to the slide for the thousandth time, watching him study the older kids with thoughtful concentration. This is my growing boy, I think, my ever changing, always loving son. And that’s exactly when those shades come in handy…





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