Well, Tess, you’re almost a year old now, and you’re giving us
something new just about every day. New sounds, new behaviors, new gestures,
new colds. The last one was a doozy, a weapons-grade
bug that lingered for 12 days. More than ever, we wished you had language so
you could understand this simple request: honey, please, let us wipe your
nose! It’s just a tissue, soft and helpful. Stop turning your head and relax.
But our pleas are just sounds to you and they’re not
communicating quite yet. You’d much rather be in control and drag your face
across my shoulder. At first it was a big “Oh, no!” But by the ninth time it’s
just another smear on a shirt. One day you might get a kick out of knowing how
I walked through the grocery store having forgotten about my snot-mottled,
black sweater. I didn’t remember until checkout.
Another thing we wish we could talk to you about is this pain
infliction thing you’ve been into lately. Those cute hands of yours are like
little vice grips, and their strength is shocking. We checked our baby manual,
but nowhere does it state, “At this stage, your baby will giggle as she tries
to gouge your eyes out.” Before, you were satisfied to grab my upper lip and
twist, or head-butt mommy’s nose, but the eye-gouging had us a little concerned
and we’re happy to speak of it in the past tense. May the next byproduct of
your budding curiosity be a little easier on us.
This article appears in Jan 3-9, 2007.
