He likes chewing on the monkey’s hand. He gets frustrated when he can’t pull said monkey down off the playmat arch. During bath time, he likes to hold a wash cloth, his rubber duckie or his wash cloth. He doesn’t like water in his eyes. When he wakes up in the morning, he greets me (or Daddy) with a big smile. He loves to be naked. And he will pee on you without warning.
His current favorite sound is a gurgling “g,” which he can do for hours on end. He loves to chew on his Taggie blanket and now, just purchased, his Taggie book. Speaking of books, he loves them; we read to him constantly. He likes his mirror but he will wing it at your face. Sitting in the bouncy seat shortly after a feeding is usually a pretty good way to get him to poop. He watches Martha Stewart; perhaps someday he’ll bake me a fantastic cake.
Watching him get his shots breaks my heart. When it comes to binkies, he’s picky. He’s nosy. He snores in his sleep. When he gets excited, he kicks his little feet and waves his arms all while making the cutest cooing sound known to mankind. He smiles the biggest smiles in the world when Daddy says, “Boo!” His pouty lip can bring tears to the eyes of stone cold Men. His skin is so soft and it always smells good. Except when he poops.
He rarely spits up unless I say, “He rarely spits up.” Then he likes to prove me wrong. Rebelling all ready! He doesn’t mind me dressing him for the day. Sitting in his high chair is a new excitement, even though we’re not feeding him solids yet, just getting him used to the chair. I take a million and one pictures and the child doesn’t mind. Music makes him move. He likes to lay on the big bed. He likes fans, light fixtures and his fishy mobile.
When he is ready to go to sleep for the night, he gets a little fussy. He wants to cuddle in close. He will flail his left arm around if you don’t hold on to his hand. And he wants his butt patted. The Butt Pat is magic. If he starts fussing again, just start patting the butt. Magic. And as soon as he falls asleep, his whole body relaxes. He smiles in his sleep. Sometimes he makes giggling noises. And when we lay him down in his crib for the night, he stretches his arms and legs, finds his little spot and drifts off to dream land.
I can say all of this about my son. I could say more. I could go on and on about the little intricate details of his wonderful daily life for pages upon pages. I could tell you every last thing he likes and doesn’t like. I could tell you what makes him giggle and what makes that lower lip stick out further than my own. I could tell you what will scare him and what won’t have any adverse effect. I know which diapers will work and which ones will give him an allergic reaction.
And he’s not even five months old yet.
My daughter is over two years old and I can’t tell you half of this information. Not because Denise doesn’t do a good job at telling me but because I’m not there. I don’t know her nightly bedtime routine. I don’t know if she has a blankie. (Though I do know she has a cup that goes downstairs with her.) Allergies? I don’t think she has any but I can’t say that for certain. I don’t know what her favorite toys are though I know she likes to line them up around her. I don’t know what she’s scared of and what is normal.
There are some days when I feel so close to my daughter. And there are days like today when I feel like the farthest thing from her soul. It hurts, really. I’m gonna go cuddle my Little Man to sleep.
(Originally published at The Chronicles of Munchkin Land in April 2006.)