Sixteen Months
The past month has been a whirlwind of transition and travel, of long nights and even longer days. Your brush with sickness last month developed into a full blown encounter with RSV and while we escaped hospitalization, it was by the slimmest of margins. While it seemed your health was on solid footing by the time we flew to Portland for a visit, we were there barely 24 hours before you developed a nasty cold. Feverish and nightmarishly congested, you struggled through. Away from the comforts of home and your miraculous snot sucker, we kept you comfortable on the highs of cold medicine and Ibuprofen. More than a week later, this cold lingers on, inducing sleepless nights filled with a hacking cough and afternoons when your nose is a river of yellow mucus that seems to know no end.
I have been working more than a month now and it was been enormously difficult because I resent every moment I’ve had to spend out of the circle of your smile. Despite your health struggles, you remain eager to laugh and ready to entertain. The extremes you will go to in order to earn enthusiastic praise and applause is quite endearing. I try to take advantage of these moments because I know it won’t be long until you refuse to go get me a cold beer no matter how energetically I clap my approval.
The most dramatic developments that have occurred this month have everything to do with your vocabulary. You will not shut the fuck up. When we were in Portland you discovered the amazing game of hide and seek and will seemingly spend an eternity exploring how often you can hide your face behind a napkin and ask “Where is he?”. Most charmingly, you answer yourself by flinging the object you are hiding behind aside and shouting “There he is!” This tendency to speak of yourself in the third person- I am sure you get this from me. And I am quite proud of it.
The unfortunate side effect of all this adorable chatter is that you repeat ABSOLUTELY everything that is said in your presence. And your father and I- total potty mouths. We can’t help ourselves. So when a few weeks ago you began to shout “Fluff,” and it sounded so cute, we completely encouraged you to repeat it. Over and over. We would take you to places- the store, a friend’s house- and direct you to say “Fluff,” to excessive, fond approval. We were all in the car just last night, running errands and your father swore as he was navigating through traffic. “Fuck!” From the back seat we heard you shout “Fluff.” And it was then that we realized we were completely doomed.
Posted by Kaz at May 24, 2007 2:03 PMI hear you. Last night, Jonathan dropped something and said "Oh crap!" While the word could have been much worse, I was amazed that he figured out how to use it appropriately. And to make it worse, I think he learned it from one of his brothers. We're doomed, too.
Posted by: Karen at May 25, 2007 8:05 AM