Letter to Zeke: Fifteen Months

March 19th, 2009 by Rainey

Dear Zeke,

Well, we continued our string of “hard months in 09″ this past month as you faced illness after illness.  From a double ear infection to roseola to a strange bout of diarrhea for about a week, we have again run the gamut of childhood illnesses that are annoying but not particularly scary.  Sleep-disrupting, laundry-producing, painful and uncomfortable…but not life-threatening.

I have found that, even as I complain and roll my eyes over how frequently you are sick because of daycare and our crazy lifestyle, I am so thankful that in reality you are a pretty healthy little boy.  You come down with things…but we are so lucky that we are not in and out of the hospital with serious conditions.  I can’t even imagine.

You continue to do new and fun things.  You are babbling your head off these days and love to point out all the things you see like birds and planes and animals.  You bark at the dogs every day as we leave daycare.  And you wave bye bye and blow kisses to your teacher as you climb the stairs up to the parking lot.  You play chase with your buddy George in the office, and love to grab my hand and pull me to the various things you want to do and the places you want to go.  I love that.

In the morning you have begun giving us kisses when your daddy leaves for work.  And you wait with me at the storm door to see him pull in in the evenings, throwing your head back in delight when his car pulls in.

When we get ready to leave for school, I pull you into your coat and you grab my keys and try to unlock the door.  Then you grab my hand and push open the storm door to go down the front steps (you missed them once when you decided to let go of my hand and scraped up the side of your face pretty badly)…and then you take a hard left and try to barrel down the sidewalk.  In the opposite direction from the car.  I stop you and stoop down, asking you to look at me.  And I tell you that you have to hold my hand or else I will carry you.  You (sometimes reluctantly and with prodding…sometimes after being picked up and protesting for a while) grab my finger and keep walking, pointing to cracks in the concrete, pieces of mulch, the weird Redskins troll in our neighbors yard that you love…

Finally we reach the end of the sidewalk and I turn you, sometimes forcibly, around, and we head to the car.  I buckle you in your seat and we head to school.  Life is pretty fun these days.

When we eat dinner at night we have begun just giving you a plate with all sorts of finger foods, depending on the night: cut up sandwich and green beans, ravioli and banana, cheese and pieces of fruit…a veritable smorgasbord.  One of the wonderful parts of this is that your daddy and momma can eat their dinner as you eat yours, finishing things off with a spoon food…which you are beginning to spoon into your own mouth more and more.  It’s pretty cool.

To celebrate you fifteen monthiversary, our friends Mark and Chandra came to visit us (actually, that was more to celebrate Chandra’s big 3-0…but we’ll let you believe what you like)…we had such a good time.  You absolutely love hanging out with them.  And you were such a hambone, dancing and laughing and “singing” to your Raffi cd by pulling your tongue in and out of your mouth as you mouthed unknown words and rocked your head from side to side.   You would grab Mark’s hand and take him on tours of the house and play with legos with him.  You looked at magnets on the fridge while Chandra held you.  And you sat at the table and told them all sorts of things during dinner.

The next night you entertained my youth with the same dance moves you had used the night before…moves that look alarmingly like the Safety Dance from the 80s…but I used to love that song.  So it’s ok.  One of the most wonderful things is seeing how your sheer exuberance and unselfconscious way of living life affects my teenagers.  All of a sudden they are dancing and singing too…doing things they wouldn’t be caught dead doing with just their peers…it is a good thing.

We love you, little man.  Even in those moments when you are infuriatingly independent and as you grow increasingly strong-willed, we find that you are still more and more fun each day.

Love,

Mama

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