Good Morning!

I am typing this with BOTH HANDS, which is an amazing treat after five months with Mr. Hold Me.  Mr. Hold Me has suddenly become Mr. Independent:  He is grunting happily and throwing his plastic keys around in his Pack N Play, after I removed him from an ebullient session in the Jumperoo.  For those reading between the lines, yes, our sophisticated and spartan apartment has been recently overrun with brightly-colored plastic stuff.

The Boy has undergone a major transformation in the past couple of weeks.  Right after Ozzie died, we had to go to Denver for a Stupid Work Conference.  Speedy watched The Boy for the long hours that
I labored with a plastic smile under fluorescent lights in the bowels of the vast convention center.  The Boy was spectacular, not only on both flights, but during the long days away from his familiar surroundings and off his schedule.  During this time, he learned to sit unassisted and pull to standing.

Now he practices those tricks with a nonchalance that still kills me:  where did this little boy come from?  There are subtler advances: hand-eye coordination, the ability to entertain himself, evidence of his own independent being ticking within.  This boy eats breakfast in his booster seat (organic pear/banana puree, hummus, seltzer water*-- all preceded and followed by long nursing sessions) then stands, clinging to the top bars, in his Pack N Play watching the animals.  When he tires of standing, he sits down with a thump and gathers his toys around him, chews on Sophie the giraffe, rattles his keys, throws his blocks.

I am shocked to find myself the mother of this busy, curious boy, when I am still emotionally processing the terror of having lived through having a newborn, but what a delight he is!  Of course, sometimes he hits his limits...

*He makes a grab for anything within reach, and if it nontoxic and safe for babies we usually let him try it.  Thus, seltzer has become an unexpected hit:  he will sip some from his tiny cup (a sake cup, if you must know), makes a horrible face and lets it drizzle down his bib, only to reach for the cup and demand more.