zygote daddy

the littlest lepidopterist

If there is one thing that has held constant for Red since he first really became aware of his surroundings (and perhaps even before then, although it wouldn't do a whole lot of good to ask him), it has been his inexplicable fascination, bordering on obsession, with bugs. Well, technically not just bugs (order Hemiptera), but invertebrates of all kinds. Worms, butterflies, millipedes, you name it. 

With d.w. writing a children's guide to stream ecology for her master's degree and my getting a PhD in ecology, I suppose it was somewhat inevitable that some of that would rub off on our little one. But it's not like we have pushed it on him or anything; what's weird is that neither d.w. nor I are especially into bugs to begin with. 

We have tried to stay sort of hands-off as he develops his own interests, and haven't tried to push anything on him (well, as much as two parents can do that). All we've done is make lots of different types of things available to him, and encouraging those things he shows the most interest in. 

The one thing we do feel passionately about, however, is making sure Red isn't irrationally afraid of any animals, especially creepy crawly ones. This has not necessarily been easy for me. After it rains, Red likes to go outside and play with earthworms, which I must admit still give me the willies when they wriggle around in my hand. Red, on the other hand, is completely fine with them because he has never known any other way to be. They aren't gross because no one has made them that way for him.

I must say, my work has really helped me get over my aversion to having little things crawling around on my body. Between the ticks, the mosquitoes, and the flies, I barely notice that anymore. Red, on the other hand, has never had an issues with things crawling around on him. His first reaction, in fact, to seeing a new insect is to put it on his arm and watch it crawl around.

Red has taught me so much since he was born. Because of him I'm pretty sure what makes us human, I think I've figured out the meaning of life, and I no longer jump into the air and scream like a girl when I feel something crawling across my skin. I'm such a proud papa.

The "terrible twos" are pretty damn funny

I can't tell you how many times recently I've heard Red yell from the other room, "Nooooooo! Beeeeeeeeea!" when our dog, Bea, wasn't anywhere near him. You see, the recent explosion in his vocabulary has been accompanied by his realization that language can be used to great effect to lie, mislead, or otherwise shade the truth about the various exploits of a two-year-old.

Red has thus taken to blaming everything on Bea, especially when he gets embarrassed at his clumsiness getting the better of him. We parents play into this, of course, because Bea does regularly bowl him over, step on him, sit on him, or pin him to the sofa while licking his face. So we have to check it out whenever our child is in distress, whether legitimate or feigned. 

But I hardly mind being manipulated by a toddler now and then. It is just so damn cute. Like when Red throws tantrums over absolutely nothing, like, say, not being able to see the moon because it's cloudy. Something as minor as that will produce an inconsolable child, head back, eyes closed, wailing as though he'd just had a limb removed. 

What can I say? Hilarious.

We try not to laugh too hard when he gets really mad at something, either, because he is just so SERIOUS about it. But again, hilarious. I mean, you have to laugh when your son is livid at his pasta for not behaving in a sufficiently noodly manner. 

Red has always been an unusually serious kid. For example, here he is playing with a stuffed leopard at three months:

And here he is at his birthday party last weekend:

Still pretty serious. It's not that he isn't having fun, it's just that this is a kid who has always taken himself exceptionally seriously at all times. 

Now that he has also developed something of a usable vocabulary and a toddler's desire for total self-sufficiency, any efforts to help him do anything are met with a forceful "No! Baby!"

Getting into the car? "No! Baby!"

Sticking the bubble wand back in the bottle? "No! Baby!"

Setting a match to firewood? "No! Baby!"

It's fun seeing one's child turn into a real person, with all of personhood's accompanying idiosyncrasies, neuroses, and tics. It is especially enjoyable when the so-called "terrible twos" are such a constant source of parental amusement. 

I mean, you can't really get mad about this stuff, so you might as well laugh. And boy, does he hate it when we do that...

two months later...

I haven't quite figured out what to do with this here weblog, now that I spend way more time interacting with Red than I used to (having been limited by his littlitude to gazing upon him and blogging about it like the proud papa I am).

So I've decided just to write about various other things I'm thinking about, readership be damned. That's not to say I won't wax interminably about Red -- I am a dad, after all. I just won't limit myself so much.

That said, allow me to wax somewhat terminably about Red.

He turned two the other day. This was obviously kind of a big thing around chez zygote, although I've been saying he's "2 in November"for about six months when asked his age. "Twenty months" just sounds weird, like saying it's 4:47 when you could just say "quarter 'til".

Anyway, a big thing because he's figured out what a birthday means: presents. He was a little confused (though obviously delighted) by the first couple of presents, but then all of a sudden the lightbulb went off. Red's eyes drew slowly upward to the magnificent pile of colored paper on top of the tv cabinet and a vigorous pointing ensued.

It's all downhill for us from here, I'm afraid. And to think Christmas is just around the corner.

Chub-a-lub no more

These two photos were taken exactly one year apart:

Red is wasting away! Well, apart from the fantastic thunder thighs, that is. But what happened? One day he's cute and larval, with what appear to be triple-jointed elbows, and the next you can see his ribcage. Oh, and he's giving you some serious attitude because you took him down off the table where he was happily walking around.

This kid is growing way too fast. The madness!

"chins" just ain't gonna cut it anymore.

Not sure if you noticed, but Chins has undergone an awful lot of vertical growth during the past several months (oh wait, I was AWOL, so nevermind) and has only been shrinking in girth. He even fits some of the pants and diapers he had grown out of in the fall.

What this means is that he does, in fact, have only one chin now. Besides, just in case he's a chunky kid like his old man was (is?), I figure I should nip this particular nickname in the bud before it causes lasting harm. I won't be able to afford his years of therapy as it is.

So innernets, meet Red. Fairly appropriate, no?

Now I just need to decide if my blog needs a new name. No zygotes have been around here for a loooooong time...

First word!

Drumroll please...

"Dat." About as close as he can manage to "cat". Sometimes it's just 'at. It's never da', because "da" is a totally different word, used to denote an object or person of interest. Like when he sees a dog, or a truck, or a Christmas tree. Or his mama. Or something he can stick in his mouth. "Da" is always accompanied by a vigorous pointing of the finger. Then again, so is "dat", although "dat" is also followed by a high-pitched squeal and some enthusiastic bouncing. Chins can't really jump yet, so bouncing is about the best he can manage. Still, it's kinda awesome.

this kid keeps getting bigger...but more slowly (at last!)

At the midwife at one week old:

At six months:

And at one year:

Finally, Chins is dropping back into the pack with respect to weight! At one week and nearly 10 lbs he was in the 95th percentile. At six months and 21 lbs, he was pushing the 97th percentile. Now, at one year and only 26 lbs, he is down in the far more normal 90th percentile. I mean, that's practically diminutive for someone who started out life with a head the size of a three-month-old's.

Sure, he wears 2T clothes and large diapers, but he's only gained 5 lbs in six months! He finally fits clothes for more than a week! This is very, very good.

Chins is moving up in the world.

My son used to be a baby. Now he's almost like a real person or something. Now he can stand up. Like, on his own and everything.

He also talks. Did I mention that? Did I mention that when he comes over to you he does this weird little proto-wave and says "Hi"? He can also walk. He may not know it yet, but oh yeah. He can. He just thinks too much. I'd like to tell him it's like hitting a baseball or driving a stick shift, that if you think too much you'll whiff it or stall, but I don't think he'd quite get the analogy.

Oh, and he has hair now. Long, curly, red wisps of it. No more bald baby jokes for this kid. No more denying that he has more hair than his old man.

And a week and a half from now he's going to be a year old. How the hell did that happen?

Halloween!

Best holiday ever for a (nearly) one-year-old. Chins got to look awesome and go trick-or-treating with some BIG kids, who are all of about 2 and a half. But he thinks big kids are the simply the coolest people in the entire world, so he couldn't have been happier. And he got to chew on a box of raisins the whole time, so that was quite the bonus.

And he was pretty damn cute, so it was kind of a bonus for d.w. and me, too.

mad baby skillz

Chins seems to be developing at an alarming rate, every day making him less like a little baby and more like a real person. d.w. hates it when I put it that way, but it's true. Babies are way more like really expensive, demanding, adorable pets than anything else. Sort of like a cage-free diaper-wearing chinchilla.

Sorry, I'm getting off track.

We've made kind of a half-hearted attempt to teach Chins some signs so that he can better communicate with us, but so far the only one he's really picked up is "light", which has become the sign he gives us for fan, window, cat, dog, tv, Mom, Dad, car, tree, food, and various other things. It has kind of metamorphosed into an all-encompassing motion for anything remotely interesting to an 11-month-old. Thankfully it kind of resembles a wave, so it is at least a moderately natural sign to give, rather than something requiring a synchronized flourish of both arms followed by a twirl on the balls of his feet. This way strangers just think he's waving at them, which I suppose he is, in his way.

And while Chins may be a little slow in the ol' language department, I've taken to calling him Bubba, because of his penchant for having long one-sided conversations with a variety of inanimate objects. He just sits there syaing, "buh buh buh buh buh", occasionally switching it up with a forceful "N'duh!" or a high pitched "Awoo!" And he's tantalizingly close to his first real word, reserving "ma ma ma ma ma" for when he is looking up a d.w., unhappy about something or other. I've figured out that "ma ma ma ma ma" is a call to the righter of wrongs, the healer of misery, the wiper of bums. But that's what language is all about, isn't it?

Oh, and he's so close to walking. He totally could if he really applied himself. It's all mental at this point. He can stand on his own until he realizes he's standing, then he's like, "Oh shit, I'm standing!" and crumples to the floor. He has this little cart thing he pushes around the house, which seems to be building his confidence a bit. We'll see. The cats are eyeing him with a degree of alarm these days, knowing their days freely wandering the house are numbered

But you now what makes Chins the most proud? His impressive facility for climbing stairs. Especially since we have none in our house, at least where he can get to them. There is little he likes better then going to the playground, showing off for anyone who will watch. We're going to have to be careful with this one.