Monthly Archive

Ian woke up today and suddenly likes bananas. This is the same kid who, for the first year of his life, hated them. As a baby, he would reject the spoonful of mashed bananas. As a new toddler, he would flail his arms to knock the banana pieces away. Or better yet, he would dangle them over the side of the highchair tray, look you right in the eye with a smirk on his face and then release them.

Ma nishtanah? Why is today, Saturday, March 24^th (at 7:10 am, of course) different than all other mornings? What made him decide to try – and like – banana?

Perhaps, at 13 months old, the sliminess no longer bothers him? With eight teeth, he likes that I can give him larger chunks than before? Could his taste buds have changed?

Almost four years into this parenting thing, and my kids still amaze me like the first time I saw them. Often, I’m at a loss for words or understanding. I’m just happy to be along for the ride.

Gotta run. My little monkey is grunting at me, for guess what, more bananas. And there he goes. He finished the whole darn thing. What an amazing turn of events.

Back in the day with Mr. Early Riser.

It’s Saturday morning. 5:06 a.m. I curse at the clock and look into the monitor. Twelve-month-old Ian is tucked into the corner of his crib. Tushy in the air.

His being awake and in this position could mean one of two things: He’s cold. Or he’s wet. At 5:06 a.m., neither of them is good. It’s also thundering outside. Option three: he’s scared.

I feel an elbow in my back from Max, who trotted into bed with us a little earlier when awoken by the storm.

I start wiggling my toes. It’s like yoga, I tell myself. You slowly start to move your extremities, and then the rest will follow.

Then I’m up.

Sure enough, Ian is wet. And petrified. He cries and cries from the change table like a baby possessed. He’s not still asleep. It’s not a nightmare. But he needs. Something.

When he’s dry again and his new PJs zipped, I pick him up and he settles into my chest. He hasn’t done this since he was an infant. My pajamas dip down a little, and he’s found a warm patch of skin. I imagine he’s listening to my heartbeat. Perhaps I’m listening to it, too. It feels so good to hold him like this. I almost don’t mind being up at 5:00 am on a Saturday morning. Almost.

He whimpers once or twice more and then exhales. Ahhh. Comfort. When his breathing settles, I put him back down. He sleeps again until 6:40 am, when he’s up for good. No need to decode that one. He’s just an early riser.