I have an opportunity to write a little about you, my son, because you are visiting my parents right now and so I have a free three seconds. No kidding, you keep us on our toes.
You love to climb and run and bang things and make noises. Echos really thrill you – in parking garages, in church, anywhere your voice makes a neat echo sound, you shout and listen to it, and I shout, too. You say a handful of things – not as much as we think you should, and we’re a little worried – but enough for now. If we say “Where’s your Bear?” you say “Hwiss it? Hwiss it?” and look around with wide eyes, acting the part of the little man searching for his bear. When you see new things, you say “Hussat? Husssat?” and we always tell you, even when you do it forty seven million times in a row. Dad thinks you say Virgil sometimes. You’re always yelling at Virgil with your finger in the air, mimicking your mother who finds the dog exhausting and irritating. Then I’ll point my finger at you and fake yell, and then we fake yell at each other until you collapse into giggles.
Another game we’ve developed is “Where’s Jack?” This game can take any number of forms. Sometimes you leave the room, and if we don’t feel like getting up and following you aGAIN, we’ll say “Where’s Jack? Where’s my baby Jack? Where’d my baby go, oh baby Jack, where are you?” And you’ll suddenly come bursting in the room, all smiles! And then you leave again, and we’re sort of stuck playing this game for twenty minutes, but you like it and at least we can sit on the couch for a few minutes, knowing you aren’t going far. Sometimes you start the game by covering your eyes. I don’t always notice, and you’ll stand there with your eyes covered for a while til I look around and see that you’ve “disappeared.” I love it.
You put your dirty dishes in the sink. I taught you this. At first, I’d say “All gone? Put it in the sink!” and then carry you and the dish to the sink, where you’d ponder for a minute and then throw the cup violently into the sink of dishes and clap your hands. Yayyy, Jack, good job! Eventually, you learned to put it in the sink when I told you to. You hold it up in the air as soon as I say it, and march all the way to the kitchen to do your chore. Now, all I have to say is “All gone?” and you’ll march it right in there. Eventually, I hope I don’t have to say anything, and you just do it. You like being helpful, actually. You’re always looking for ways to pitch in, including sweeping (our broom is pretty much ruined), wiping down things, walking the dog, petting (squeezing, laying on) the cat, rearranging your diapers, and once in a blue moon, picking up your toys if we sit down and help you one by one.
You ate a candle the other day, and you still eat crayons, but other than this strange yearning for wax, you pretty much don’t eat anything. We don’t fight you. We put stuff in front of you, and if you eat it, fine, and if not, ok fine. Fruit is usually a go. Ice cream, of course, and lollipops, though not popsicles anymore. Cottage cheese or yogurt, sometimes. PB and J, and any kind of bread or toast or muffin. No meat, eggs, cheese, vegetables, mac and cheese, potatoes, spaghetti. Ah, well. We’ll get there. You’re not hurting for calories, clearly, because you’re as big as little boys your age get. People love to tell us you’re such a big boy when we go out. I love it, too – I have people pitying me for my sore back for hefting your 31 pounds everywhere, which is harder now that I’m pregnant.
I hope you like being a big brother. You love the cat and dog so much, I think you’ll like a little squealing baby, though of course it’s different. We’ll see how it goes. We’ll try to prepare you. I think you enjoy the fact that my belly button is getting easier to reach. Maybe by the time Liam or Cora is born, you’ll be able to say his or her name. I can’t imagine dealing with two children, but if your sibling is anything like you, I’m just going to be thrilled. You’ve been such a fun kid, I am looking forward to enjoying doing it all over again. (Well, not the newborn days. But we’ll get through it.) I love you, Jack man. You make us proud.