Friday, May 11, 2007

11 Months Old

I watch my sweet son, Henry. I see him drawn to every thing that isn’t safe and is a potential hazard. So, I spend a lot of time attempting to redirect his attention. From Abby's bouncing, curly hair to a soft stuffed animal. From the electric cord to the Leap Frog table. From the remote control to a fake phone. From dog poop to a bottle of Clorox.

Sometimes he goes with the flow. Most times he screams and tears plummet down his chubby cheeks (not sure how the tears get out of his eyes when they’re clenched shut). Many times I am amazed at how angry he gets. But tonight, I had a moment of clarity. I imagined I was an 11-month-old Henry.

I sit on the floor, drooling happily, playing with and exploring a great new thing I found. I crawled 100 feet to get to this amazing thing and even though my knees are well padded, they’re sore from the trip. Anyway, I’m chewing on it, staring at it, crinkling it and having a grand time. Then, I see the long legs and hear the voice of Mommy. Based on the look she gives me, she’s about to take away my discovery. So, I do what every smart baby in my place would do. Sprint (i.e. crawl really, really fast).

Alas, she is faster than me (did I mention the long legs?) and she takes away my fabulous thing. I am pissed. Since I haven’t mastered my vocabulary yet, I scream. That’ll get her attention. GIVE IT BACK!!!!!!!!!!!! What did I do to her?

Can you imagine how ticked you’d be if someone came along and took your recently-aquired fun activity away? Imagine sitting on the back deck, reading a book. Cool breeze. Just as the second page sucks you in, your spouse/friend/partner/significant other/neighbor rips the book from you and replaces it with an astronomy book, written in Arabic.

So. Since moments of clarity are not as forthcoming as I’d like, I’m going to embrace my epiphany and try to see the world through my sweet Henry's eyes more often. (And I’m also going to remember that he really does spend a lot of time looking at, hanging onto and crawling up and over my legs. I should probably shave them a little more often.)