Posts Tagged ‘development

In August, you suddenly and inexplicably developed boob preference. Or should I say boob ADHD? Gone is our alternating one-per-feed system that worked so well for so long. For some reason you now feel a need to switch it up every few minutes, like, A HUNDRED TIMES. (Okay, maybe ten.) I’m decidedly unhappy about this. Not only is it annoying, it usually leads to MORE LAUNDRY.


I think you’ve outdone yourself this past month, both in terms of sugar sweetness and omg-what-kind-of-creature-have-I-unleashed-upon-the-world-ness. You had a will, but now you have an opinion.

You like to snack on raw noodles. I have no idea whether this is in any way good for you. Generally we keep our noodles and pasta out of sight behind cupboard doors. Still, when you see them, you demand one. One noodle, thin and hard and crunchy.

We had a week-long potty strike … a week of laying off and letting you poop in your diaper, because poopy diapers are bad, but still better than constipation. A constipated toddler is not something I wanted to risk having on my hands. Thankfully your potty strike ended as abruptly as it began.

The revolt against diaper changes and tooth-brushing lasted a bit longer. We seem to be over that hump, but it’s a delicate peace, highly dependent on your mood.

IMG_20130806_222644You think soaps and lotions are the grossest things ever, something about the way they smear over skin. Whenever we break them out you make this pained expression, accompanied by an anxious whine. (It’s a sound I might make if I were ever forced to let a spider crawl down my arm.) You’ve even gagged just watching daddy rub on hand cream. Who needs lotion when you’ve got perfect marshmallow skin, right?

Jumping! is your new obsession. You don’t always quite make it off the ground, but you try.


Sorry, did I say “obsession”? Actually, most other things pale in comparison to the intensity of your feelings about music. You like Disney songs – especially the opening African choir part of “Circle of Life” and the segment in “Kiss the Girl” where the tadpoles jump in and out of the lagoon singing “na na na” – and will insist that we replay those same twenty seconds over and over and OVER. You also like Lily & Madeleine. I have video footage of you interpretive dancing in the kitchen to “In the Middle.”

When I sing a line you recognize, you light up and go hunting for the iPod touch, demanding that I play the track. You’ve been known to melt down when a song ends or stops abruptly. (This applies to live music as well, whether it’s band practice or just me tinkering on the piano.)

IMG_3979Your vocabulary has been exploding lately, approaching a hundred words. Notables include open, more, 弟弟, (belly) button, ball, apple, bucket, toes, balloon, ten, done, mine, rice, hair, raining, run, come, chicken, dirty, music, blackberry, water, 哥哥, phone, door, morning, bird, bee, cookie. Your enunciation, however, can require some deciphering. Raining and morning you pronounce perfectly, but blackberry sounds more like “bai-jee!” Oh, and you know your name: “Aye-den.”

When I mentioned sugar sweet, I’m thinking particularly of how, even though you’re increasingly able to play and read independently, you still like to know that I’m there. I’m thinking of how you pat a spot nearby, telling me in unequivocal terms to “[sit] down!” before contentedly going about your business. (You get very upset and scream-y if I try to leave.)

And for the times my brain starts to unravel from hearing the same twenty seconds of the same song over and over again, your spontaneous kisses and 愛你s totally make up for it.

The simplest things amaze you: cottonwood fluff, a new toy, water boiling on the stove. We hear your exuberant “WOW!” often. It’s the best defense against becoming old and jaded.

Another nugget of wisdom you’ve shown me? Cheer for yourself, even when you don’t succeed. You clap heartily upon completion of the tower you’re building and just as heartily if the blocks topple.IMG_3900

New understood words: cute, dance, sing, hot, airplane, twist. New spoken words: honey, squeeze (gee), love you (ohw voo) and 爱你, 阿公 (grandpa), 抱, banana, shoes, bath, 妹妹 (little sister), again, cheese, butterball. You employ simple sentences like “妈妈 抱!” (Mama, up!)

Butterball is the name of your rotund stuffed sheep. I think it’s your cutest word. You pronounce it “buh-duh-BOWH!”

Still dancing up a storm, and singing, too! The aforementioned twist is one of your dance moves, which you break out on command. You’ve picked up simple melodic refrains from a few songs – the “oh oh oh” part in Lincoln Brewster’s “Today is the Day,” the coda of Vienna Teng’s “In the 99.” (What children’s music?)

Somehow you’ve decided that burps and toots are funny, giggle-worthy, all on your own. And sneezes, you gleefully imitate sneezes: “Ah-chee!”

IMG_20130724_231838Daddy is your hero. You shriek, “Ba BA? Ba BA?!” whenever you hear a noise outside that could conceivably be him, whether it’s a car driving by or the mail carrier. You have half an eye out for him all day. Except at night it’s all mama, all the time. You don’t go to sleep for anyone else, at least not without a fight. An epic one.

Sometimes you run around with both arms outstretched behind you, kind of like an airplane, or the soccer goal victory run. You’ve also discovered spinning in circles.

I’m impressed by your fine motor control. You can pick up stray hairs (mine, of course) from the hardwood and kitchen tile. At dinner, I’ve observed you peeling the skin off a (cooked) peanut and picking individual roe off sushi rice.

And you often pop grapes into your mouth whole, only to spit out the skin afterwards. Once I gave you a plum, then promptly forgot that I had given you a plum … until you came up to me several minutes later and spit the pit, sucked perfectly clean, into my palm. (I know, I’m terrible.)IMG_20130727_151025

You can find a tiny bell in the odds-and-ends bowl and know it comes from one of my flip flops. I know this because I caught you in the coat closet trying to reattach it.

You’re a squirmy worm, on the floor AND in our arms. You’re always drawing your knees up, twisting from side to side, undulating. You’ll periodically attempt to climb up my body while I’m holding you. This is kind of exhausting. Also, I don’t appreciate being kneed in the chest. Stop it.

The corollary is that you’re surprisingly mobile for a pre-crawler. I set up a playspot of those interlocking foam tiles for you several weeks ago, and have since had to expand it. Now we’re out of tiles.

We’ve moved on from “assisted pseudo-jumping” to, well, assisted jumping! Often on my stomach.

You really hate having your nose cleared. I have to sneak up on you with tweezers while you’re sleeping. It’s ridiculous.

You’re interested in the source of a sound and pinpoint them with ease. There’s an electronic alphabet book at your grandma’s place that your oldest cousin used to play with, one of those toys that plays music and talks at you in a radio-operator voice. Well, you ignored all the fancy light-up letters and honed right in on the unobtrusive speaker. And at a wedding last weekend you kept turning this way and that in daddy’s lap until you identified the nearest speaker, hidden up in the rafters of the ceiling. Then you settled down to stare at it. Said Kevin, “She found it.”

Soon after you were born, my cousin gave you a little teether toy, basically a stuffed bunny with rubber paws. You love this toy, except you prefer to chew on its ears, making them spit-soaked and gross.

Your sleep resistance has become so pronounced that you’ll be on the verge of dropping off, then suddenly jerk awake, like, HEY! I almost fell asleep! You tricked me!

Can we talk about that time on Monday when you fell off the sofa? Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t know you could squirm free of all those pillows, and I ONLY TURNED THE CORNER FOR A MINUTE. I’m sorry there’s no carpet in this house. Luckily I haven’t been able to find any injuries, despite obsessively checking your scalp for head trauma after recovering from six heart attacks.

You’ve learned a new maneuver: the boob grab. You may also boob grab other women.

You love attention, and you love people, even people you’ve never seen before. We get a lot of, “That just made my day!” because strangers generally don’t expect babies to beam at them right off the bat. But you do.

You’re all about the making of new sounds. Like the gurgle. And the fake cough when you want attention. (Why must you make such an irksome noise?) And daddy heard you say “mama” the other day, so it’s not just me!

You can resist sleep for HOURS. Eventually you’ll fuss and conk out. Sometimes you’ll do this singsongy sleepy babble before dropping off. Are you trying to convince us you aren’t tired? It’s not working.

You prefer to keep us in sight and may yell if we leave the room or otherwise move outside your range of vision. Lately this has applied in the car, too, in that you dislike being alone in the backseat where you can’t see anyone. Essentially you’ve kicked daddy out of the master bed and me out of the passenger seat …

You can be coy. Occasionally you’ll mess with people by refusing to make eye contact when you know that’s what they want. Instead, you’ll turn your face away and smirk. Once someone came to our door soliciting donations for an organization, but he seemed kind of nervous and new, and you kept smiling at him and throwing him off his lines.

The universe cannot contain this much happy so early in the morning.

It took multiple attempts to get a good video clip of you rolling back to front, because you’d do it so fast I couldn’t capture it in time.

You play with your feet during a diaper change. This is helpful for wiping, but not so much for putting diapers or pants on.

You’ll go several days without pooping, then one day with a number of poops. Earlier last month I think you were poop-less for a week. We were mildly concerned, except you weren’t showing any other signs of constipation or discomfort.

A month ago you were examining objects intently with your eyes, but the thought that you could touch them with your hands hadn’t really occurred to you. Now? You reach for everything – the walls, our drink glasses, tissue. And if some part of it fits in your mouth that’s where it’ll go next. If I’m wearing a necklace you’ll fiddle with the pendant. You have a pretty solid pincer grasp.

Om nom nom.

You stare in fascination when we play the guitar. And when I play piano with you in a sling, you’ll twist around and reach for the keys. You’ve also tried to remove my hands from the keys so that you can press them yourself.

We don’t have an exersaucer or jolly jumper, but you’d probably enjoy something like that because you’re bouncing up and down on your feet. Assisted pseudo-jumping, I call it.

Your arm strength is catching up to your leg strength, that is, you now hit as hard as you kick, ow, what was that for? Your “SO EXCITED” flail turns you into a veritable dervish.

It’s a pain to change your diaper now, because you just won’t hold still. Instead you twist all around, threaten to roll off the change table, and stretch your legs out really straight so that it’s impossible to fasten the tabs properly. Next time around I’ll remember to appreciate how easy it is to diaper change a newborn.

You do this:

The body surf.

and this:

The push-up.

and this:

The butt-wiggle.

Seems like all the mechanisms are in place for crawling. As it is, you can scootch backward and swivel 180 degrees.

On the flip side (ha), you attempt crunches, but they’re more like chin tucks. Then there’s this:

Trying to reach for an off-frame iPod touch, hence the disgruntled look.

You’ve also discovered your feet! Of course, the first thing you do is try to suck your toes.

I’m gradually bringing out the toys people have given you, now that you reach for, swipe at, and grab things. You like to touch our faces, just no fingers up the nose, alright?

You’ve definitely said “mama” a few times now. Accidentally, though, so I guess it doesn’t count …

You’re down for the night earlier (yay) but also up for the day earlier (boo).

You’re so much more responsive and interactive now! We’re totally holding deep conversations daily. Though I have no idea what you’re saying, I assume it’s something along the lines of, “Hi mama! I like you!”

You like to play with daddy too:

Recently I’ve been able to set you down for short periods in your swing or bassinet or pillow without fuss, YAY! You’ll hang out quietly, giving me a window of time to get certain things done around the house, things that are difficult to manage one-handed, like laundry and dishes and vacuuming. Sometimes you even fall asleep on your own! I’d break out in a SUPER HAPPY DANCE over this except – wait! Laundry and dishes and vacuuming!

You don’t cry anymore during baths and diaper changes. At times you seem to enjoy them. When we change you out of a poopy diaper, or bundle you up in a towel after a bath, more often than not you’re all smiley and happy.

You arch your back and kick your legs so hard that your daddy has almost dropped you, twice.

We’ve had to be really diligent about prying apart your FAT ROLLS in order to wash in the creases. Otherwise “cottage cheese” grows there and the skin becomes red and raw. And smelly, you know, like a dirty belly button. Yeah, there are downsides to being chubby enough to eat.