‘Your sons are killing me’ 32/7
I said, “which one?” to your mother. She said, “both.”
Boys:
I realized after posting last month’s report that it had almost nothing to do with your month of progress and was instead colored by a single difficult 24-hour period, a period which happened to fall during the hottest weather of the year, when I was at my crankiest. I was so caught up in putting together another defeatist screed that I neglected to mention some important stuff, so it’s been bumped to your August report. The big news from June-July was Alek’s first teeth appearing, along with his sudden rolling-over development. The first two teeth came in reasonably quietly, though there was a great deal of slobbering associated with the cutting of them. Since then a third one has appeared on the scene, this one from above, and it was accompanied by a certain raising of the decibel level in the house and increases in crankiness all around.
The rolling over was a pretty major accomplishment, Ike, because the enormous mass of your ass acts as an almost insurmountable counterweight to your efforts, a ballast-keel meant for the roughest seas, but you finally got it through sheer stubborn heaving. And once you had proof-of-concept you worked at mastering the most efficient means of overcoming the physical laws standing in the way of inducing your ass to defy gravity. Now you’ve had over a month’s practice with it, and it is a motion you perform most fluidly. This morning you nearly heaved yourself off the bed.
Unfortunately you can’t leave well enough alone and now seem most insistent on crawling. A week ago we were ready to admit that you’d almost gotten it* — you could move your great bulk a meter or so, but as one of your main points of contact with the floor was your face, I’m not sure it would have been accurate to describe it as crawling. ‘Groveling’ maybe. This form of locomotion resulted in nearly as much frustrated, painful howling as did that last tooth. In the last week, however, you’ve really nailed full-on crawling, in short spurts, granted, and usually in hot pursuit of some toy of Adam’s. Whichever toy you latch onto suddenly becomes his most treasured possession right about the time you clamp your damp hands around it.
You’ve also graduated to the baby backpack, and from bibka to high-chair.
Your brother, meanwhile, has expanded his efforts in the hissy-fitting department in the last month, but we’re not buying it because he alternates these horrid fits with brief, shining periods of exquisite sweetness. As for Adam’s behavioral development, the obvious place to start is with the urine.
Adam, we can declare the toilet training, begun around Easter, officially over. And successful. You have moved beyond the little green potty. You disdain the mini potty seat adapter, and even insist that I offer no support as you teeter on the brink of the adult seat. You can pee standing up, even off bridges. You perform most key potty sub-tasks unassisted, and in fact often insist on this. You began sleeping in BBUs this month, and combined with a late-night wee that has been a successful, and entirely dry, transition. And as of just a few days ago, you are no longer wearing the pull-up when we go out. So this month we can announce it to the world: at two years and eight months, you are OFF THE DIAPER.
Just a couple of things, though: the public urination ambush thing will remain cute a short time only, so enjoy it while it lasts. And the passive-aggressive pee-pee-as-bargaining-chip thing’s days are numbered, too.
But other than all the sudden showers of pee, it’s been a nice summer, days of rice combs,
lake fimming,
and family visits.
Oh, and yodelling:
Your mother and I keep having variations on the same conversation, in which we try to compare the two of you at similar stages in life, and we keep finding gaps in our memories of one thing or another. “I don’t remember Adam abusing me like this!” your mother says, but boy, I do. And it was at exactly this age, too, seven months old, when the grip came in. Each month Alek adds a new nickname to his list, and now Adam delights in calling him Da Gippy Gabba in honor of his pinching, pulling, prodding hands. At the other end, the sharp, dense little hooves are kicking away endlessly, so pointedly bruising that certain parts of your mother resemble dalmatian hide. A difference between you two at seven months, though, is in the heft and strength. Adam was a stick, in need of exercises and physical therapy, while* Alek weighs twice what his brother did and has the muscle tone of a python.
But other than the inexorable physical development of you both, the thing that has been so striking in the last month to your mother and me has been watching the rapport build between you. Though in so many ways it’s been, and continues to be, a grueling schedule, we’ve lately been congratulating ourselves for putting just two years between you as brothers. This month has seen the spreading shoots of the natural bond between you that grows and twines like ivy. For no particular reason, you like each other. You look into each other’s eyes and the joy in your faces bounces back and forth like light between two mirrors. It is the joy of recognition, of shared laughter, fraternal competition, blood ties. More and more, it is the joy of COLLUSION.
*In deference to Stephen Colbert, all semicolons have been removed from this post: “Hey, semicolon! Comma or colon? Pick a side! We’re at war!”
Stephen Colbert or not, I love the semicolon.
Also, I love your family (but not as much as a semicolon).
Comment by Jane — Tuesday 14 August 07 @ 16.40 MDT+2.00
I, too, thought that was one of Stephen’s better intro remarks. The Harry Potter one was pretty clever as well.
Great post, btw. Hopefully we’ll be seeing less of you in the bathtub in the future.
Comment by Erik R. — Wednesday 15 August 07 @ 13.15 MDT+2.00
Sorry about the whole “killing you” thing, but my god, those boys are cute.
Adam: on a scale from 1-7, you’re an 8! oh, I crack myself up. I fully expect him to be able to spell his name in the snow come winter. We messed up in giving our son too long a name, plus an “i” to dot, so it will be a challenge to him. No descenders, at least.
Comment by juliloquy — Wednesday 15 August 07 @ 21.43 MDT+2.00
That Adam gets better looking with every post. He must get it from Magda.
Comment by jdog — Thursday 16 August 07 @ 07.54 MDT+2.00
Thanks, guys. We’re pretty pleased with how cute those boys are becoming, too. And I’m sure you’re right about the source of it, jdog.
I’m also a big semicolon fan, and it’s hard to wean myself of it, but we’ve all got to do our part for the war effort.
Oh, and Erik, I’ll stop posting bathtub pictures if you’ll lay off the naked bottle sucking.
Comment by sgazzetti — Thursday 16 August 07 @ 10.18 MDT+2.00
Touché.
Comment by Erik R. — Thursday 16 August 07 @ 23.58 MDT+2.00
I also meant to say: Congrats on the potty training. Any tips? So does really well with the potty deal as long as we’re inside the house, but outside, no way.
Comment by jdog — Saturday 18 August 07 @ 01.51 MDT+2.00
We have a very similar situation: first child spindly, second child ox-like. Coincidence, or intelligent design?
Comment by simon — Monday 20 August 07 @ 17.21 MDT+2.00