Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Summer at Six Months

I wish you all could have heard Mike’s description of Summer’s discovery of his red tie – and rediscovery . . . and redicovery – throughout our three hour church block last Sunday. Each time it would seem to catch her as a gasp-worthy and totally new thing of wonder.

Then she’d get distracted for a moment.

Then suddenly, “Gasp! A RED tie! It’s like nothing I’ve seen before! I must grab it!”


Then, “WHAT is this wonderful thing I see! A red tie?? I really just want to clutch it in my little fists!”

Another distraction.

Then, “Where did THIS come from! It’s a red tie! Good heavens! Give it here!”


Babies, for the most part, seem fairly . . . I don’t know . . . nondescript at this stage (generally speaking). They are no longer their tiny, slumpy, little newborn self. But they aren’t yet waddling about and trying first words.

I always forget that when it’s my own baby at this stage . . . it’s absolutely intriguing. Riveting. As far from “nondescript” and boring as anything could possibly be.

I haven’t even been appropriately sentimental over leaving stages behind of late. I have in the past, mind. I recall feeling great loss now and then at the thought of my babies changing and growing. I’m sure I’ve blogged my little sorrows over our inability to freeze time. I know I’m not void of that proper and natural sentiment. It’s just . . . every new thing Summer starts doing adds so much to my enjoyment that I forget to be sad over anything we are leaving behind. I’m sure I will be at some point. I’m particularly fond of the early toddler days and can hardly bear to see them slipping away. But for now? I just kind of . . . like that she keeps growing and changing.

That’s all, I guess. Oh except . . . at Sunday dinner Mike announced that we were going to start working on showing proper displays of disapproval. The disapproving stare. The purse-lipped, raised-eyebrow look of slight disdain. Apparently there had been far too much of the opposite going on throughout dinner (displays of delight, laughter and encouragement over inappropriate dinner-time behaviors). Soon we will have them all sitting straight backed with high collars and stern faces. We will have them glowering at lesser children who engage in things like potty talk, eating with their hands, and laughing with their mouths full. Not too soon though . . . we had them practice their disapproving stares, and, most of what they came up with was wholly unsatisfactory – bordering between looking constipated, terrifyingly gleeful, or slightly insane.


Kara said...

I love the discovery stage. So cute.

Michele Johnson said...

At our dinner table tonight, my husband took a spoonful each of corn and sweet potatoes, stirred them into his water, and offered money to the lowest bidder who would drink it. My nine-year-old stood on his chair, and to the tune of his chanting siblings, downed the whole thing for a penny.

Michele Johnson said...

Clearly, I could use some practice with my "disapproving look."

Nancy said...

Hahaha. Yes Michele. This is exactly the type of dinner time shenanigan that calls for the disapproving stare. If you could purse your lips and frown dourly, that would probably help too.

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