I cannot believe how my heart leaped and pounded, as if I were seeing a species long thought extinct - - or more, one that never existed, like a unicorn. To me, all my life, the stages of baby development were part of a sort of mythology; I believed in some way it existed out there for someone else and as such I never regarded it as something quite real. But to watch the growing product of your own DNA code rise up on hands and knees and move forward of his own accord is something you almost can't believe as you are seeing it, like an astounding magic trick, and you're just wishing you could figure out how it works - - but just knowing that figuring out how it works would ruin it, and it is for someone else to know.
He crawled later in the week at my parents' and at his Great Nana's house. He crawled for Christie and Jaime. Now he is angry when I insist he lay on his back for a diaper change. He makes his whine of protest, and sometimes it ends in a scream and a scowl. "I can go places now, mother. Let me."
The week before last we noticed him shaking his head sometimes. Since then he has started doing it when we do it. Now he does it when you say, "Shake your head!" His first verbal command as far as I can tell, and another little miracle I can't quite process. He also plays a game of exchanging noises, back and forth, using his voice in a tiny conversation.
"Uh."
"Uh."
"Uh."
"Ah."
"Ah."
"Uah."
He knows we are there when he cannot see us. He looks after us when we leave a space. He cranes over to look for things he drops.
His whole being seems keyed toward destruction. Last night in the bath we made stacks of his stacking cups, and we sat him at the other end of the tub; he reached and strained and finally got a knee under him and crawled to the cups so he could knock them over with one swipe. He will not let even one cup stand atop another. All must come down; disassembly is the name of the game.
He is picking up on others' feelings and attitudes. As a test, Brian pretended to start crying the other day, and Ambrose fell apart, scared and confused and sad.He is exploring his pincer grasp and thus is obsessed with zipper pulls, buttons, buckles, pebbles, bits of food. And speaking of food, if we are eating it, he wants to eat it. And with his own fingers or his own hands on the spoon, thank you. I can do it by myself mother.
I started to get frustrated with his spoon-grabbiness, but I realized that this is part of exactly the point and purpose of raising a child: to structure a world where s/he can become a fully independently functioning person. Yes, Ambrose. You can to it by yourself. I'll watch and glow with smiles you know nothing about, and I'll scoop you up when you bonk your head again and wipe your hands and chin in the aftermath of early spoon usage. How I love you, Little Monster, getting to be a Bigger Monster all the time. -Me
