Monday, October 22, 2007

A Boy for All Seasons

For Halloween this year, Sam will be a cowboy. This choice of costume wasn’t inspired by my interest in the West—I’m not foisting spurs on the boy so he can enact Charlie Goodnight driving a herd up to McKinley Pkwy.  Sam came up with this all by lonesome…well not quite all alone.

 

The first time Sam really laughed, a true belly laugh at something in the world rather than from a belly full of gas, his father mimicked Woody from Toy Story by pointing his fingers at him and saying, “Reach for the sky”. It’s hard to resist your baby’s first belly laugh…And I did try…this all seemed a bit politically incorrect…playing fake guns with a baby? Suddenly I wished Sam had picked up a Barbi (she's not all that anorexic, right?).

 

Regardless of my resistance, this little pantomime kept evolving especially when the Rec Teacher at Hopevale gave my father a Woody hat to give to Sam. Dave found an old hat…good theater needs costumes.

 

Then Sam learned to point and say "pow" and when he did any adult he pointed to would fall down even Holly the church toddler group leader gave an Oscar worthy performance at the park (I’m not sure how she stands on guns or Barbi). The falling down routine was big fun at the lake when Uncle Billy and Gram would fall and kick and splash.

 

All the while Sam laughed, Sam studied especially his Uncle Ken’s performance which involved an “Uh, you got me”, a grasp to his belly, folding over, then down on his knees and splat.

 

After learning from all these great performance my boy developed his own sketch and whenever anyone would shoot him—he circled a small area and said, “Uh”, then folded over, fell down on his bum and splat. One day he put his swim shorts on his head. It’s the first time Sam made me laugh—a big grown up laugh—not from parental joy, happiness nor condescension just someone did something hilarious. It’s hard to resist your mom’s first big belly laugh…he didn’t even try to resist.

 

Now, his dad has taught him different stunts…like what to do when you get shot in the bum. Sam grabs his bum and says “Uh, Uh, Uh” or his toe which he picks up and tries to hop while holding one foot.

 

And whenever I start to worry that all this fun will lead to a propensity to guns, I think of what my departed children’s/high school acting buddy Cooper would have said to me, “He made you laugh.”

 

There are two more new entries, so scroll on down.

Sam's Peops: Girls! Girls! Girls! (and some Boys)

Sam mostly hangs with the older girls (see July's blog), but he has a couple younger boys he hangs out with (I didn't get permission from their parents to put them on the blog so no pics). They have cigar chomper names--Sam, Max, and Zac. I'm hoping they start their own Hollywood Studio System. Next blog time around, I'll get permission.

Although, I must say having the oldest kid at the toddler group makes Sam seem a little hooligan-ish. Max's and Zac's parents are very sweet about Sam's behavior but I didn't realize how fast and strong Sam's arm was until I tried unsuccessfully to intercept a block heading for Zac's head. Hopefully the older and more mature Ava will join the group and teach Sam good toddler group etiquette.

A Boy and his Da (& one with his Ma)

As a modern mother, I receive regular emails with parenting tips from parenting magazines i.e. what is perfectly normal for your toddler to be doing and when to race him to the nearest specialist. Mostly the tips help, for instance I was reassured that hitting is normal toddler behavior and not a sign that his mother’s/grandmothers’s/great grandmother’s/great grandfather’s temper is necessarily twisting down along the ol’ DNA. But the articles about how Daddy will get all the love (or whichever partner isn't home all day) were especially comforting. Sam is all about the daddy. Even the way he says “Daddy” is infused with joy and fun.

 

He says, “Mom” (never mommy) and he uses a deeper, more authoritative voice than his normal one. He doesn’t need to say, “Hey Mom, will you wake up and get me out of this crib" just “MOM” and “Mooooom”. His meaning is all in the inflection. I worry sometimes his vocabulary won’t increase; instead he’ll get creative with syllable stressing.

 

The first time I realized this Daddy-love might be an issue happened before Sam was even born. I was visiting my friend Shannon’s house around dinner time. An internal clock must have gone off in her daughter Emma’s 3-year-old head because she was ecstatic over her father’s imminent arrival—like he was Daddy March returning from the War in Little Women. Excitement is one thing but an Epic everyday at 5pm is a little much. It was an omen.

 

Don’t believe me? Check out the pictures (or read the articles).