A Visit to the Aquarium
Hello to everyone.
Xavier's Grandma Penny paid us a visit this week. It's been nice hosting her and letting her and Xavier reacquaint themselves. She arrived at an opportune time as Rebecca was in Cheyenne Thursday and Friday. She babysat for Xavier while Daddy got work done.
Aunt Chellie came down from the North today to visit with her mom and to bring Xavier the swag she got him on her recent trip to Anaheim California, which included a whirlwind visit to Disneyland. At her suggestion, we all spent the late morning and early afternoon at the Denver Aquarium.
This is the first time Xavier has visited the aquarium. He and Mom took Dad to lunch at the restaurant last Father's Day, but we did not walk the exhibits. Everyone was sick that day, and we did not think Xavier would make it through the exhibits.
This morning, we packed his big stroller, mounted a car seat base into Grandma's XC90, then headed out. As it turned out, Xavier did not need the stroller; he walked through much of the exhibits and was carried through the rest. The stroller instead carried our coats and his diaper bag.
Right out of the gates, Xavier's excitement took him from tank to tank, at a run most times. He had no awareness of crowds coming and going, and he made all of us work to keep him close.
One exhibit had large catfish and other large fish swimming near the glass wall. For a while, these held Xavier's attention. Then, he saw the video game machine next to the wall. The fish no longer mattered. He wanted at the machine. The machine, a standard arcade-sized unit, controlled a submersible camera in the tank that, until he saw the machine, held Xavier's attention. The machine allowed you to maneuver the camera around the tank in all three dimensions, right up to the fish if your control was good enough. Alas, Xavier could not use the machine, though he really wanted to.
He enjoyed many of the exhibits. Aunt Chellie helped him crawl into some "kids observation domes," which were domes protruding up into the bottoms of the tanks. To get to them, you crawled (if you are an adult) or walked if Xavier-sized, under the tank, then stood up under the dome. The fish swam around your head. After Chellie took him the first time, Xavier decided he needed no more moral support and found it fun to run around underneath the tanks.
On the way out we passed by the ray tank, where you can feed the rays. Our timing for feeding the rays, however, did not work out; they were the opposite of out to lunch. A posted sign read "The rays are on a feeding break."
Instead of feeding the rays, Xavier got to visit with a Mystic Mermaid. He was afraid to sit with her by himself, but had no problem when Daddy held him. Strange, two months ago, he had no problems sitting by himself with Santa.
Shortly after, some men came in and carried the mermaid off along with two other mermaids they carried from somewhere else. The mermaids had a show to do in another tank. This left the restaurant half empty, so we enjoyed lunch right up to the time Xavier needed a nap!
Xavier's First Hair Cut
Greetings to everyone.
Today was an unseasonably warm January day. Cloudless skies and low seventies temperatures. Rebecca had windows open around the house to help draw in some outdoor freshness and clear away some closed-up winter stale.
Xavier's hair (at last) has grown too long. Just this past Saturday, the waiter at White Fence Farms called him a girl. His hair length wasn't helping his cause.
His hair hung in his face, half way down the bridge of his nose. He often pushed it aside or attempted to blow it out of his eyes with a juicy PFFT. The back of his head had dozens of tentacles of hair so knotted, the only hope of untangling them was to just give up and snip them off. We had planned January for his first hair cut, and today we took him to a barber.
We chose a true barber rather than some chain stylist or children's stylist (yes, there are shops which specialize in styling children's hair, from the very young and up; of course, the price for such specialization is high—very high!) I wanted a barber mostly because I think it a more manly thing for one's first hair cut.
I had found just the shop a few months back, a place called "Barney's". Owned by a man named Barney, who has cut hair out of the same place for forty years. It was an authentic barber shop. A red-striped white pole; old, worn leather chairs with ash trays built into the arms; older men cutting hair; the clipped hair of the day's customers before us littering the floor; and cash not in a central till, but in a drawer at each station.
Our appointment was at 4:00 PM, an hour before closing time. Our barber was not Barney, but (ironically) the one lady barber—Lindsey, who has worked there nearly 20 years.
So, how did our little man do? He did not fuss nor cry. He was, in general, not grabby, and he sat quite still in Daddy's lap after getting used to the comb and the spray of water on his head. Lindsey took it slow so as not to put Xavier off, or in any way give him a reason to fear and cry. He spent much of his time watching another barber cut the man's hair in the next seat over.
He sat on Dad's lap instead of in the seat by himself. He is still too small to sit in the chair on his own. Also, having Dad in the chair with him made him feel secure. He did not like the spritzing of the water to wet his hair, but Lindsey squirted his hand to let him get used to the spray. Xavier decided he could live with it and only made faces as his hair was wet down.
Lindsey thought to dress only Dad in a cape to keep clean his clothes. But Dad said, "No. Part of the whole first hair cut experience is wearing the cape." So a small cape was found for Xavier to dress in.
Lindsey asked Rebecca (the official photographer of the event) if she wanted to keep any of his hair for his baby book. Rebecca said no. However, after the hair cut was finished and Dad stood from the chair, there lay a large, long lock of Xavier's hair in the seat. Rebecca decided she wanted to keep a lock after all, so we collected that hair into an envelope.
Throughout the sitting, Xavier got rotated on Daddy's leg. Sometimes he faced forward. Sometimes he faced Daddy. It made things much easier for the barber to work and Xavier fidgeted less. The whole experience was non-traumatic. I told Rebecca and the others in the shop "I'm not sure how I feel about his calmness. I'm almost disappointed we didn't capture the iconic shot of tears streaming down his sad little face."
So, this was Xavier's first hair cut. Rather than head home to turkey sandwiches, we walked across the parking lot to one of our favored pizza places and celebrated. Xavier ecstatically joined the celebration by drinking his first bottle of chocolate milk (real whole milk, not formula). His jury is out on the chocolate milk experience. After dinner, we headed for the park to let Xavier run and play.
The Hangry Engineer
Hello to everyone.
For several weeks now, Xavier has interested himself with how things work. Primarily, he likes to take things apart then reassemble them. He's quite adept at it, sometimes scarily so.
One of his favored items to pull apart and reassemble is one of his bottles. These have five parts to them: the bottle, two pieces making up the vent and the cap and nipple.
Xavier will push/pull a chair over to where the drying rack rests, climb up and grab bottle pieces, then find some place to sit and assemble the bottle. After a successful assembly, he will throw his head back and suck on the empty bottle several times. Then, he disassembles the bottle and begins anew.
Recently, Xavier sat in front of the refrigerator assembling, play drinking, disassembling his bottle. Rebecca and I thought nothing of it until he started getting louder and growing more frustrated. His frustration grew more after each assembly and sucking sequence. He would suck like he was serious, the slam the bottle on the ground in something of a snit.
Recovering from the tantrum, he began again, only to end back in the same place in a more frustrated state. That's when it dawned on us. He was hungry. His frustration came from the bottle being empty.
Here he had gone through all the trouble to collect the bottle parts, find a comfortable spot in front of the refrigerator, assemble the bottle, and no milk magically appeared! After all, isn't this how his parents do it?
Realizing his hangry situation, we pulled a readied bottle from the fridge. We endured frustrated squawking will the microwave took the chill from the milk (he still likes cool milk), then the blissful sounds of a happily suckling toddler.
Hangry
Greetings to everyone.
Hangry: (n) hungry and really mad because of it.
This is a term Rebecca has coined. It describes Xavier when he gets hungry (not peckish, but hungry). He can go from a happy, giggling state to hangry in less than a second, and it takes one by surprise nearly every time. When giving in to such a state, Xavier often will throw himself to the ground and roll about dramatically. He will shriek. If he holds something, or can quickly grab hold of something, he will throw it. Basically, a tantrum. Interesting, that when the term is used in the presence of other parents of toddlers, this term is immediately understood; no explanation is needed.
The tantrums involving throwing, slapping or hitting are not tolerated, of course. Such behavior earns him an immediate timeout.
This morning, shortly after being lifted from his crib and allowed to rampage about the house, Xavier decided Daddy was not moving fast enough in getting him his morning bottle he suddenly felt he wanted. He rarely eats right after getting up, so Daddy thought there was no hurry. The result: Xavier throwing himself to the floor and rolling about while calling out with the most pitiful of poor-me cries. Daddy got on the case only to find no milk made up in the refrigerator.
As a new bottle was being mixed, Xavier realized no one was paying him any attention, so he took matters under his own control. Growing quiet, he picked himself up and toddled down the hall and into his room. He knew resting on a TV table was a partially filled bottle, the remnants of his 4:30 feeding this morning. Climbing into the glider, he reached the bottle. Problem solved.
Speech Therapy, Session One
Greetings to everyone.
It's been a hectic year already, and it's only just begun. Rebecca is in class all this week (in Cheyenne), and all our babysitters are unavailable. I may be able to drop Xavier off in his preschool class Thursday this week (plus his normal Friday class). I won't know until Thursday. Oh, and somewhere, somehow, both Rebecca and I picked up a mild case of what we think is food poisoning.
To top this off, Xavier started puking up his bottle again. We saw some of this last weekend: always after a deep cough, then an emptying of his stomach. We also noted signs that he has teeth moving again, which always churns his stomach and may be contributing to his more intense coughing.
Xavier had his first speech therapy session today. It was with Miss Robin, the same therapist who has helped him with his eating and swallowing. Running late, I handed Xavier a bottle in the car and headed off to Children's. Arriving a mere two minutes behind (I really made good time, in spite of the rush hour traffic), I came around to get Xavier out of his car seat.
When I grabbed his little hand to move it out of the way of the buckle, it felt more cold than I expected. I wondered if he had dumped his bottle rather than drink it (I was paying attention as we drove, so I didn't think he dumped the bottle), so I examined him further. I found some spit up on his jacket and thought, "OK, it was a little bouncy on the ride over." Then, I undid the belts and pulled him from the car seat.
He did not dump the bottle; he puked the bottle. I swear, toddlers' stomachs have the power to multiply what goes in, so twice as much comes back out. Xavier was soaked; his coat was covered (it's dark color, interestingly, hid just how much he was covered). The bucket was soaked. After we got home, I would discover the bucket's base and the car's leather seat was soaked.
Carrying Xavier, covered in milk mixed with digestive juices, I checked us in. This did not go quickly either, and I was not wanting to waste time getting him changed. No, something new at Children's and doctors' offices: screening for MIRS and Ebola. Seriously, I'm not joking. Xavier passed and got a little sticker to wear while in the clinic telling everyone he'd been screened.
I met Miss Robin, changing Xavier's pants as we walked back to her office. We caught up on his eating (which until these last few days, has been admirable), then began some exercises. As you may imagine, the exercises are more play and games for Xavier. Xavier, who chatters and "talks" and coos and squawks all day long, played it mum, saying very little. This session, of course, was meant to baseline his verbal skills, so he wasn't giving an accurate account. Perhaps he was purposefully sandbagging to look better later on?
One of the games we got to, however, made the trip and the regurgitated milk worth it, at least for me and my ego. Miss Robin broke out an iPad and brought up an app. A cartoon cat came up, leaned forward and placed its paw against its ear as if to say "I'm listening. Say something." Xavier was not impressed; he only wanted at the iPad so he could press the Home button.
Miss Robin spoke a little baby gibberish, then the cat in the iPad repeated the gibberish. This she did twice, and twice the cat replayed her voice and sounds as if the cat were speaking. This grabbed Xavier's attention. He squawked. Then, the cat squawked. He cooed a bit and made several uniquely Xavier sounds. Then, the cat cooed a bit and made several uniquely Xavier sounds. Now into it, Xavier continued playing this game several minutes.
This impressed Miss Robin, who helps set up speech programs for Children's. With something of an impressed look mixed with a little stun, she told me she has never seen a child so young figure out this app. Before Xavier, the youngest she has ever seen interact correctly with the app was two and a half years; the average age to figure it out (in her experience) is about three years old.
I drove Xavier home, the cabin of the car perfumed with sun-warmed puke. I did not care. I was grinning from ear to ear, while even a little sobered. My son figured out a toy 11 months in advance of his age.