When Ethan’s tummy says “no more; I’m full”, his natural reaction is to turn away and spitza, sometimes sending his meal flying for effect. A more civilized approach is to communicate with sign language. Ethan is too little to articulate words, so instead we’ve been teaching him to tell us what he wants with his hands. Today, it clicked—just in time to help bring order to the otherwise chaotic world of squishy finger foods.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Ethan loves balls: little grippy balls, larger-than-life beach balls, even foam blocks with holes for little fingers that aren’t really balls at all. We got to toss the balls back and forth for the first time today, because now when he throws and rolls them, it’s with a direction and purpose.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Twenty degrees and beautiful powdered snow—a perfect day for a sled ride. Ethan held himself steady with his hands while Daddy pulled him up and down and up and down the hill in the backyard.
Friday, February 20, 2009
A casual, baby form of clapping hands was sufficient for Ethan for a total of five days. Today, he decided to be like everyone else with a proper, flat-handed, palm-smacking applause.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Ethan has been improving his balance. When he is standing at the coffee table, he no longer needs to crawl to get to the sofa: he can stand momentarily in between. Yet his most obvious display of stability came today when he was using his walker toy. He stood behind it and took step after step until he had walked from one end of the room to the other.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Grandma has a knack for encouraging our boy. She was persistent for months, coxing Ethan into raising his hands to show us how he’s “So big!” Her patience has paid off. Mommy and Daddy have likewise long been helping Ethan learn to clap hands, but it was the visit from grandma this weekend and her special touch that won the applause of little Ethan.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Inspired by Ethan’s baby words, I’ve been asking him at bedtime for weeks now if he could talk. Every night, I ask with pronounced articulation, “Can you say Mommy, and Daddy, and Ethan, and Buo?” (Buo is Ethan’s nickname; it’s pronounced like boo and is short for buoy.) He knows that along with “Buo” comes a barrage of kisses and tickles. He responds with anticipatory giggles and subsequent laughter, but no answer to my question. In contrast, Mommy’s been taking a simpler approach, and now when we ask, “Can you say Mama?”, he says “Mama” back, especially when it’s the Mama who’s asking.
Ethan is a fountain of sound. He giggles, coos, squeals, and grunts. He makes raspberries and is forming words. Some of his sounds defy description, and most are beyond me to imitate. One that I can, however, is his monkey sounds. Before bedtime he made a monkey noise, and I monkeyed back at him. He laughed and replied in kind, and we carried on the conversation for a couple minutes.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
For weeks now, the final part of Ethan’s bedtime ritual has been throwing a rabbit out of his crib and me throwing it back in. After a couple volleys, he would usually dive onto the stuffed bun and directly proceed to sucka and slumberland. Lately however, he’s mostly stopped falling for that charade. Tonight, I came to the point where I just had to wave goodnight—only to my surprise, he waved back! He wasn’t happy when I left the room, but about a second later the crying stopped, giving way to the peaceful sounds of sucka.