Who's in the Basement

Turns out that gangly, nearly six feet tall being sprawled out on the couch in the basement, watching tv while texting on his crackberry, surfing the web on his netbook, and caressing sporadic tufts of hair he calls 'a beard' is this guy: 

(text from a journal entry dated 4/171995).

Go figure.

11 Months, 27 Days

Well dear heart, your birthday's almost here. 
You like dancing, just about any music will do -- Prince, Bonnie Raitt, Brownstone, Sting.  You bend your knees rhythmically and when you're really into it, you go way down, almost touching your bottom to the floor, sometimes holding onto a chair for support.

You're an independent little bugger still, sometimes you just go up or downstairs *the opposite of wherever I am* and just hang out by yourself awhile -- til I come retrieve you, or at least check on you, about 90 seconds after your arrival.

I'm sure you were proud that day last week when that big new white bar of Oil of Olay vanished into the toilet.  We were none-the-wiser till later that night when there was a flood and, of course, I suspected you'd been at play!!  When the plumber came the next morning, he had to take the entire toilet base up to locate the problem!  It cost us $65.00!

You've got your first software, Mickey's Colors and Shapes.  You like it okay; especially now since you've mastered pointing with your index finger (over the last three days) and you can push one key.  You're not nearly as fascinated by it though, as you are of just fiddling with the mouse or whacking the keyboard and watching what happens on the screen when no application is running!  We bought you your own little computer a few weeks ago, but you'll have none of it (it is a little advanced for you) and return over and over again to ours.

You're a WILLFUL kid; often looking me square in the face when doing something I'm telling you not to, or that you've been told not to.  Also, you tend to deny my request to "come here" until the the third call.

You're looking more like me as you age.  Yesterday you grabbed some white man's bluejeaned legs in Safeway.  He was not at all charmed.

You're chatting up a storm now; "Bye, bye" and "bottle" being almost recognizable, although I've heard you say 'ackry" on at least 3 occasions.  I guess that Z sound must be a tough one to make.   But whatever happened to MA MA, DA DA, easy, repetitive, one syllable sounds?  None of that for you!  You plunge headlong into a three syllable word-- your own name, (of course).  You do say the simple stuff though, mostly something starting with a 'g' that sounds lke 'gome'.

ANYWAY

tonignt when Daddy was preparing to put you down for the night, I joined you two in your room where Daddy stood holding you, swaying back and forth.  I put my arms around you both and kissed you, then Daddy, before leaning my head on Daddy's chest and swaying too.  You put your left arm out around my neck and then leaned over to rest your head on my shoulder and we all rocked you to sleep: your head on my shoulder, mine on Daddy's chest, his head on mine.
We love you so much.
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Some things never change; others really do.