The Hug

It goes something like this:

You come crawling at me with the speed of a small comet. Once at my feet, you reeeach until I pick you up. Then you wrap your little arms around my neck, squeeze with all your might, and smush your face into my cheek.

You’re playing on the floor, placing toys in your mouth, sticking them on your toes. You’re babbling and bobbling. Then, out of the blue, you reach out for me, grab a hold of my neck and squeeze with all your might. Then you look at me with a toothy grin and return to play.

We’re giggling at each other, playing a game of Aaaa-chooo, doing everything we can to make the other laugh. You’re in our empty bathtub, I’m on the floor. You reach out and I think you want help out, but instead you just wrap your arms around my neck, give it a big ole squeeze, then sit back and say “Aaat-too” and start giggling again.

There aren’t words to adequately explain what these little moments do to my soul, little one. They fill me up. Give me confidence.  Add a smile to every cell in my body.

Semantics

The Great Debate around the Olivet household is if you’ve said your First Word. But what constitutes the actual first word? Does it count if it’s just being repeated? Does is count if it’s not used in context? Do expressions count? Ah, the details that drive parents crazy.

At the most basic level – a word emerging from your lips that just sounds like English – well, you’ve said a few. It started with “uh-oh” and you’d repeat the “uh” and then eventually the “oh” followed. Daddy decided this didn’t count because “uh-oh” is an expression, as well as being a sad excuse for The First Word. Besides, you’ve never used it in context, you simply repeated it after we would say it to you.

Then came “hot”. One hot day, I was strapping you into your car seat and asked “Asher, are you hot?” and you said “hot” clear as day. I, of course, said “Holy Shit, did you just say ‘hot’?” To which you replied “adaadadaeadadadadad”. So, I don’t think you really understood and were simply just repeating something back.

Same goes for “ouch”. I pinched my finger in your highchair and said “ouch”. Then you said “ouch” and I said “ouch” and you said “bababaibaobababaaaba”.

So, here’s where the debate stops. I know you know you’re first word, you just don’t know when to stop saying it. It’s “Dada”. It often comes out as “da da da da da”, but this is the word that I know you know the meaning of. Last night, after bathtime, the three of us were sitting on the floor in your bedroom looking through books. Daddy got up and left the room, but you didn’t see him. A few minutes later, you looked around and noticed he was gone. You crawled toward your Jack-and-Jill bathroom saying “da da da da”, pushed the door open and looked inside. You said “da da da da” as you entered the room and looked around. You then went to the other door of the bathroom that connects to the second bedroom, opened it, peered inside and said “da da da da da”. When you couldn’t find Daddy, you simply looked back at me inquisitively repeating “da da da da da”.

So, “uh-oh”, “ouch”, “hi” and “hot” are just words. They can’t be your First Word because they don’t have meaning. And, although you know the meaning of the word “Dada”, it’ll be many years before you know how much that word means.

The Doors

Much to your daddy’s dismay, this is not a post about my crush on Jim Morrison. This is not a post to talk about how Mommy would have been a loyal Jim Morrison groupie, had I been born at least a decade earlier or he hadn’t died 24 days before I was born. No, this is about your own obsession with the doors.

You’ve long been obsessed with drawers and cabinet doors. You could sit and open and shut them for hours. You have taught yourself how to get your little fingers out of the way right at the last moment, before they get crushed. But, your latest obsession is with the various doors in the house. We often find you closed behind the door in the dark laundry room and your bathroom. When we open the door, you’re just sitting there waiting, then you grab the door and shut it again, often in our faces.

We’re sure that you’re just getting this out of your system so that when you’re a teenager, all you’ll want to do is sit on our laps and read books.

Good Bye, Christina

A.K.A. The Master of the Two Hour Nap. I swear every time she put you down for a nap, you’d sleep for at least two hours.

So, yesterday was Christina’s last day with us as your nanny. She is heading back to her “regular” job of athletic trainer at the local high school, which meant her she could only watch you on a really part time basis. So, we’ve done a search and Olivia will be starting tomorrow as your full-time nanny.

We’ll miss Christina. Thinking back, she started before you crawled. Before you stood up on your own. Before you climbed the stairs over and over and over again. And, although she never heard your first word, she did teach you “more”, “eat” and “please” in sign language.

A Letter from Daddy, One Year

Whew. Not the year, how to sum it up. You’d think I have a speck of wisdom or a tidy parental platitude to offer. Instead, I’ve got a big ball of fuzz where such reasoning and insight used live. But it’s a happy fuzz, like a tuft of Igloo’s fur in your mouth, with grinning ear to ear. That’s what it’s like, that cranial cotton, because you are the most joyful little bear.
I kept a small, terribly incomplete list of assorted firsts, somehow thinking this would inspire an informed yearly roundup, but knowing that you clapped on June 22 or ate your first pieces of melon on June 20 pretty much inspires me to get more coffee. Instead, I’ll remember our giggle fit that erupted as I held you in my lap while you tried to fall asleep for the night. Out of nowhere you let out a small laugh, I chuckled, you guffawed and snorted, then back and forth with belly laughs, and you knew you were getting a response, so you kept it up until I had tears in my eyes. And I’ll remember our Saturday morning rave, dancing and rocking on the bed to some hip-hop and Bob Dylan. You may actually have the better moves.

The year’s been an inchoate tumble and if nothing else, I’ve learned that you are rushing river and Mom and I it’s banks (we’ll leave the more literal translation for a later entry). If we can keep sturdy enough to guide you along your natural course, I’ll be forever thankful. I also now have that gut-level understanding of what my Dad truly meant when he said he was proud of me. He’d get a sort of faraway look and you knew that emotions were coursing through the veins, following along the path they’ve traveled for generations.

Evidence of a Growing Boy

Your Man Crush

I meant to post this over a month ago, but simply forgot. I’m not sure how I could forget such a gem…

So, you’ve developed a Man Crush. I haven’t recently tested to see if you still have this Man Crush… because, of all people, it’s on Ryan Seacrest.

We had this magazine with “Dreamy Ryan” on the cover and it was sitting in our your magazine rack. This is the rack that we allow you to tear up and chew the magazines and catalogs we have already enjoyed. Typically, you sit on your knees and grab one magazine after another, throwing them behind you. Then you randomly grab one and start tearing the pages out. This day, however, you sat on your knees and starting grabbing magazines until you came to Ryan. You gently laid Ryan onto the floor and carefully stroked his face, pointing to his nose, eyes and lips. I left Ryan laying there and throughout the day as you would crawl through the room, you would stop to stroke Ryan’s face and then carry on with your business.

I called your father and his idea was to lay down different magazines next to Ryan, in hopes that maybe you would develop a Man Crush on someone other than that American Idol dude. We tried Angelina Jolie and Haden Christiansen to no avail. You were stuck on Ryan.

Please tell me you’ll have better taste in ice cream.

Woodland Creatures

The neighborhood has been abuzz with wildlife in the past month. We have several new fawns running around, all cute with little white freckles on their backs. We also have an injured deer that has been visiting us from time to time. We’re uncertain of how she was wounded, but glad she’s up and eating. The swelling in her leg has reduced significantly, too. This is all good news because when I called the Division of Wildlife they simply said if she wasn’t moving or eating, all they could do was come out and put her down. Which I guess is better than getting attacked by coyotes, but still isn’t what we wanted to hear. You can see here that her left leg is now only about three times the size as the others:

We have also had the rare pleasure of seeing some very large bull elk roaming around and eating trees. Several weeks ago, four of them were in the neighborhood and it was quite the sight. Compared to the deer, these guys are gigantic! For example, this was the youngest and smallest of the elk in our driveway, standing next to a full-size car:

This was the next largest:

And this was the second largest, about to eat the neighbor’s house:

And standing next to a car:

Unfortunately, there was an extremely large bull that I did not get a photo of. He did, however, get spooked while I was in the neighbor’s yard and came running toward me -  within 8 feet. He made me pee my pants. But, alas, it is a fisherman’s story as to how large this elk was since I didn’t get a photo. In all honestly, he had to have weighed over 700 pounds. He made the elk in the photo above look like a juvenile. If he visits the neighborhood again, I will have my camera ready.

Strangely, we have also been visited by a mysterious creature who has somehow entered the house. No one has seen this animal, but it has left its mark. We’re assuming it’s related to the beaver, due to the distinguishing teeth marks left on windowsills, chair legs, the leather ottoman – oh, and you should see the side of your crib.

Odd…

Eggs and Bacon

This morning we had a playdate with Mommy’s friend, Sheri, and her daughter, Delaney. For Sheri and I, it was the epitomy of Mommyhood. We took you to the Cherry Creek Mall to play at Eggs and Bacon – a little romper room of sorts in the middle of the mall. You had a lot of fun, and made sure to leave a little bit of spit on some eggs, bacon, waffles and a big banana slice.

This is Delaney, a giant piece of sausage, and her Mommy, Sheri:

I know what you’re thinking… Yes, son, bacon does come from the Gods.

Shapes

You have a set of blocks of different shapes that go into a red bucket with a lid. The lid has the different shapes cut out, the idea being that you’d have a great time picking up blocks, selecting the right shape, and dropping them in the bucket. Until recently, every time we would put the lid on the bucket, you would rip it off and throw it, completely appalled that we would even think to cover the bucket. The bucket was to be used only for putting items in and taking them out, putting them in and taking them out, putting them in and taking them out. The other day, though, I put the lid on the bucket and dropped the shapes through their designated holes. You were spellbound. And, you actually dropped a few of the shapes through the correct holes. This just proves you’re a genius.

Son, this is a square.