Fully Human

I never finished this post when I began it two months ago, but I'm posting it now anyway . . .

I've never been one of those people who speaks about her unborn child by name, and even felt a little odd revealing each of the kids' names before they were born.  I don't think that's too uncommon.  What is perhaps a little more unusual is that my reluctance to speak the baby's name aloud has persisted until now.  Besides calling him a variety of nicknames, such as "Mr. Wiggles" (which he got because of his activity on the day of his second ultrasound) and "Little Guy" (we said things like, "How's the little guy?" until it somehow the phrase became a proper noun), I find myself resorting to odd little tricks to avoid the twinge of discomfort that occurs when I say his name.

The Balinese would be quite understanding of my reticence on this point, at least until recently.  They do not allow their children to touch feet to earth for the first six months and do not officially hold a naming ceremony until that age, because they believe that until then, the baby is still divine and has not decided whether to remain with us on the terrestrial plane.  

I think it's safe to say that our baby, our Little Guy, Joshua, has made his decision, and he's here to stay.  So I think I should probably start calling him by name, because he has almost never heard his name spoken by a member of his own family due to his mother's weird euphemizing.

At six months, almost seven, he's really become aware of his power in the world.  His hands are less like blunt objects attached to the ends of his arms, and more like actual tools.  He still loves his walker and just in the past couple of days has learned how to really go in it, paddling about at will.  Prior to this development, his movement was a bit like a duck, with all this activity under the bottom while he looked completely passive on top.  But now he leans forward, paddles around, cruises sideways along the kitchen island to try to open the drawers.  He frowns because he can't pull the drawers open as hard as he tries . . . because, unbeknownst to him, when he is in good pulling position, the walker itself is keeping the drawer closed.  So frustrating!  He also gets stuck all over, like a little bumper car, wedged up against a counter or the doorway to the powder room off the kitchen.  He'll wheel out of the room and then we'll hear a plaintive, sad little "ummhhhh" where he's gotten himself up against the wall of the hallway or the dining room table.  Someone comes around and sets him free and he continues on.  Sometimes the girls start pushing him around, and they'd like to really run with him, but they crash him into things or stop too suddenly and I have to tell them to slow down. 

New things surprise him and provoke a little startle, but his eyes are so round already that they barely widen--it's more like he just goes still and stares.