Alden is good natured. I don’t know where he falls on a list of baby personalities worldwide, but I’m confident his placement is somewhere on the “thank your lucky stars” line. He can be found crabbing at some point during any given day, but he doesn’t really commit. We checked in with his pediatrician because we’ve still only seen two tears roll down his cheek. In his entire life. And once was when he hit his head.
He’s an only child, which means it’s easy for us to give him lots of attention. If we ever get another I’m sure I’ll be singing a different song. I have such sympathy for babies, though. All my life words have been my only weapon and my best and most reliable tool. Being unable to speak must be like a never-ending, no-cheating game of charades. Even with the best partner, the one who almost always gets it, that has to be colossally frustrating. Add to that the fact that babies can’t get their own meals or walk out of the room when they’ve had enough and it’s a miracle we get as many gummy smiles as we do.
As I think I’ve said here before, Alden sleeps with us. He used to sleep in a co-sleeper but as he got bigger he migrated into the bed. Now when I scoot more than a few inches away from him he’s developed his own sign language response. First he extends his arms in the classic zombie position. If he can’t reach me with his fingertips he extends his legs perpendicular to his body as well and then lazily waves all four limbs while making little sighs and moans. He never opens his eyes. He doesn’t cry. But he’ll keep that up until I gather him back in against me. He is my anemone and I am his clown fish. The second his belly makes contact with my body he goes entirely limp and is out for the rest of the night.
I know, this is the second swoony “omg-my-kid-is-soooooo-cute” post. I think maybe I’m supposed to apologize for that. But, you know, I’ll probably do it again soon and to any requests for moderation I say:
jaysaint 