On Friday, you turned 8 months old. Proof that you have survived not because of us, but in spite of us. Lately, we have felt that we need to just buckle our seat belts, because it is you that is behind the wheel… without a license.
A Letter from Daddy
So, Asher, you’re eight-months old. It’s hard to believe, until you look into the fridge and realize there’s a whole world of things older than you, things that get no cuter with age. And wouldn’t you like to get your little hands on these things. You’d hold them high above you and inspect them with a quizzical eye, twirl, chew, toss, and grab them, all before plunking them down in your square red pail. It’s a beautiful thing, because I watched as you learned to do it.
See, your mom and I are constantly chatting with you and asking you questions, but up until recently, I’ve never asked you to do anything and expected you to listen. In that way it was like you were the kitten. It didn’t much matter what we said, you’d just go about your business. Once you got in your head that it might be cool to leap roll off the changing table, this changed. I could tell by your expression you got the gist of “Asher, Stop!” Shortly thereafter you picked up that “Still” means stop pounding your legs up and down while Daddy’s trying to put on your socks.
That weekend when we were playing with your blocks, I would drop them into your pail one by one and ask you to do the same. After about 5 minutes you perfected your aim and you’ve been at it ever since. I’ve moved on to getting the colored rings on the stick and you pulled that off yesterday. Next up is “Asher, Asher, mow the lawn?”
Except for Igloo, we’re all looking forward to that warmer weather. With the time change and some more spring-like weather has come evening walks and swinging, something so damn fun you snort with laughter. With each push and subsequent giggle-snort-giggle, I’m like a mouse rapping the treat bar. More, more. I now also can tell by your expression when you want say, “Daddy, I’m going to hurl.”
Given the stuff we feed you, I’m truly surprised I haven’t seen that look before. Carrots, peas, prunes, and some rice cereal, a little formula to thin it out? I don’t know whether to feel proud or ashamed; whether this leads to a sophisticated palate or a future eating disorder. Just wait until you get to do this on your own at soda dispenser. One of the true joys of growing up. That and being mean to bugs.
After a long day of all these activities, when I’ve got you in my lap all bundled up, ready for bed, we usually read/chew Goodnight Moon or the Big Red Barn for the finale. This month, for the first time you smiled with recognition when we came to the Goodnight Moon line, and you gazed up at me while I read the few remaining pages. Just listening and absorbing. Goodnight Sponge.
Love,
Papa
A Letter from Mommy
The Subtlety of a Mountain.
Lately, there have been many subtle changes about you. It’s the new sounds you voice that are just a bit closer to actual words. When I first started hearing them, I had to look to make sure the sound was coming from you. There’s a look in your eye that now has just a bit more of an awareness; something I can’t quite put my finger on. You seem to linger at the details of things: the little patch on your pants, the pattern of the blanket. Just the other day, you noticed my eyelashes for the first time. I look at you and there just seems to be more of a little boy looking back.
All of these things are so slight that it would be hard to not miss them. But, on the other hand, all of these things are so monumental, it’s hard to watch. As I’ve said before, it’s simply magical to watch you evolve into this wonderful little boy, yet it’s so startling at how fast it happens.
I’m caught in a strange dichotomy that I never knew I would experience. On the one hand, I feel like I have to say goodbye to a small and familiar part of you each day. Yet I have the opportunity to then welcome something new and awesome and completely exciting. Some days it’s all I can do but to sit there and just watch you, completely awestruck. I’ve come to realize that these small changes seem to compound on each other; the littlest thing now turns into the largest milestone.
I’m not sure how to get my head around all of this. I want to hold onto that little baby in you forever; to hear your little baby grunts, snuggle your head and hold you in my arms all day. I remember when I couldn’t wait for you to sit on your own and watch you play with your toys. And it was wonderful when that happened. I can’t wait to hear your first words, see your first steps and kiss your first scraped knee. It’s just happening so fast. I’m not sure if I’m ready yet.
Oh, Peanut. Stay. I need to catch my breath…
Love,
Mommy
P.S. A trip down memory lane, starting with this video:
Darling Baby, 1 Week Old from Gregory Olivet on Vimeo.
