the boy
Not Quite Crawling
Catch!
A Bit of Time Out of Doors
The Boy has been sick the last few days. Recurring fever, loss of appetite, congestion. The pediatrician says it's nothing serious -- at least, no visible infection or signs of other serious issues -- but it means late nights and tired days for us all, especially K.
A bit of sunshine and fresh air in the early afternoon, though, leaves him smiling and ready for a nap.
Independence
Independence comes in small developments: gripping a bottle.
Riding a bike.
Evening Rituals
Climbing, scooting, homework, making friends with the cat -- it's all part of the evening ritual. And with an infant, that ritual paradoxically includes the unexpected.
And a little boy who goes from silly and giggling to sick and crying in a matter of a few evening hours is one such exception, which trumps everything else -- especially a silly blog.
Bearing Gifts
With K and the Boy back, things are returning to normal. Which is to say, there's more mess -- why does doubling the child count quadruple the mess? -- and more noise. The mess, well, I could live without; the noise is the best soundtrack to my life I could imagine.
When K returns from Poland, she always brings gifts from the family for us all. (It makes it sound like she's often going to Poland alone when in fact this was just the second such trip.) This year's theme for the Girl: logic games. One in particular, sort of an ever-changing maze, has captivated the Girl. She sat this morning at the refrigerator, twisting and turning the various mechanisms, making this and that pattern. The Boy, on the other hand, was thrilled with the bagel wrapper and his newly discovered skill of scooting around in a circle.
For her part, K brought back a new love of good old fashioned Polish rosol.
A whole chicken, some parsnips, carrots, and celery, and several hours of slow simmering produces the ultimate comfort food.
Comfort food now for all of us.
Feeding and Sleeping
He sits on my lap, Friday night and he’s tired. His head resting on my chest, he slowly opens his mouth as the spoon approaches. The pureed fruit in his mouth, he mushes it against his gums, swallows, and looks up at me. His glassy eyes stare off into the distance, and a balled fist slowly comes up, rubs an eye to the accompaniment of a little fuss. I feed him the entire jar of fruit, and it’s clear that he won’t last much beyond the last bite. Within a few minutes, we’re upstairs, his head on my shoulder as I pace about the darkened room. Moments later, he’s asleep.
The great honor of being a parent is being present in those moments of ultimate trust, those moments that make us so very mortal. I am responsible for two of his most basic, mortal needs: food and a quiet, safe place to sleep. As the Girl grows more independent, these needs come less immediately from my hands: she takes food out of the refrigerator for herself; she prepares her own snacks and even helps with her own meals. It’s easy to take those basic responsibilities for granted with her. But with him, K and I are still everything — for a while.
There and Back Again
K and the Boy have returned from two weeks in Poland. We spoke on the phone, we video chatted via Skype, but the simple fact was they were there while the Girl and I were here.
And yet we look through the pictures K took and it's just as if we went there: the familiar visits; the time spent around the kitchen table; the walks in the fields around K's folks' house; the pictures at the small chapel on the way to the river; breakfast with the sun streaming through the window; the silly play on the kitchen floor.
We weren't there, but we can see the whole story in a handful of pictures.
Instant Smile
It's hard to get a candid shot with the Boy. He's turned into a true poser: any time he sees the camera out, the smile emerges. The hands start waving. The squealing begins.
