Columbus and the Constant

We're all crowded around the computer. I am typing...and feeling guilty about the heaping pile of laundry in the other room waiting to be folded. Louie is playing with a strand of pearls (clearly, fake). A good example of irresponsible parenting...they're probably coated with some chemical and I'm absolutely sure they are a choking hazard. Better get those pearls. Meanwhile, Ace is gripping the mirror on his excersaucer tightly with both hands, face pressed against it like a preteen practicing kissing. Not yet. Please, not yet!

Anyways, I can't wait to report on all the clever things they say when they start talking but for now I can only guess as to what their thoughts might be. Completely subject to my interpretation: Ace, our resident discoverer...the Columbus of the home front, "So this is a spatula? Ahhhh...perfect for beating against this shape sorter." or "Are you kidding? I love this mattelaise bedspread! It feels so good when I open and close my hands fast against it." The world is a wonder. And a wonder for me to watch him.

Ace is a brave little man - prepare to be awed - he silent cries. Yes, you heard me right, a cry with no volume. At one of Lucas' class parties Ace was sitting quietly in his car seat carrier while Chris took pictures and I assisted Louie in gluing cotton balls to a paper plate...or maybe the glue was on a paper plate. I can't remember. I think we were making a snowman. One of the other parents came over to let me know my baby looked upset. And there he was, silent crying, tears running down his face, bottom lip stuck out, his distress indicator (stork mark on forehead in between eyes that turns red when distraught) bright with color, but no sound. Not a even a whimper.

Ace is developing right along. He knows how to bang two blocks together, take off his socks, babble the 'm' consonant and is getting up on hands and knees. He's reaching well out of mid-line and developing his pincer grasp quite nicely. Check, check and check on my child development mental check list. In this family, in my house, in my mind, this is completely normal. The reality check was talking to my mother-in-law on the phone last night..."you wouldn't believe what Ace did today! He took two blocks, and he banged one against the other...". She really tried hard to share in my enthusiasm but I could see through her pretend excitement. And that's okay. Not everyone has been in the early intervention system for over two years. Along the way we've picked up our share of how this whole child development thing should go. This awareness is almost second nature at this point. Doesn't everyone celebrate the development of their child's pincer grasp?

Louie is our constant. We can count on him to wake up at 7am, to drink his milk, to request his ball toy, and to fast-crawl into the kitchen whenever he hears the microwave with hopes one of us will lift him up and let him push the buttons. He loves digital lettering and numbers on anything...clocks, signs, the DVR on pause (it shows the number of minutes it's been on pause on the screen) and he loves pushing buttons on electronic devices such as cell phones, DVD players, printers and so on. Therefore, isn't it obvious that the microwave should deserve the fast-crawl since it has all aforementioned beloved items in one smart white machine? "What? Have they started that silly food machine without my help? Wait, wait! Here I am! Lift me up! I'll help you!" Thank you, Louie. Because we need your help. Truly, we do.

Louie's development is slow. It is. But, one thing Chris and I have definitely learned is to celebrate each and every new development, major milestone or not. Which is probably another reason we are so in tune with Ace's development, big things and small. No matter who is doing it, it is reason to shout with joy and jump up and down. There will never be a word, a step, a letter written, an art project completed that won't be a big deal around here.

In the meantime, until they can actually verbalize their affection, we'll take their sweet gestures - those sloppy (and I mean sloppy) wet kisses from Louie and Ace's arm-flapping, leg-kicking excitement when we go to pick him up - as the expression of love every parent craves from their children.

Who knew I had so much to say? Who knew?