Wild bird

May 13, 2010

Baby boy, you are huge now. Just over 13 months, you’re walking, climbing, speedwalking, falling.  Your body is so busy learning how to move, that you have no time to talk.

Instead, you screech.

Oh how you screech. I know it’s hard to get our attention, especially when all five of us are so busy getting acquainted at the end of the day, but it’s hard not to wish for a sweeter tone.  Your noises are so… immediate.  And effective.

You grab my finger, pulling me up off the chair, screeching.  You push the napkin away, determined to not get a nose wipe, and with that movement, you screech.  You flop your body down (the best at passive resistance), when we want to pick you up from an activity you love — whether it be cat food munching or big brother chasing (when they’re leaving to school) — the whole time, screeching.

Yesterday you blew a kiss to me.  Just a couple nights ago, you blew raspberries all over my body.  You swing the plastic baseball bat at Dinah and giggle, and I can’t help but giggle with you.  You are so anxious to try everything NOW, new food, new toys, oh, is that a new ball?  Did I mention how much you love balls?  And oh how you screech for that basketball on the other side of the fence at your big brothers’ school.

I miss you.  Each day I miss you.  I know the days are sometimes long, just you and your dada alone in the house or running errands.  I sit here in the office, hearing your chirps and your cries — muffled through two walls, you sound so much like a wild bird.


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