Duck, Duck, Duck

When I was in Sweden last October, I bought the yet-to-be-born Oliver an orange and yellow wooden duck with red wheels and a long green string. I liked it in particular because the wheels were more oblong than round so when you walk the duck wobbles like the real McCoy. Leave it to the Swedes to combine design esthetic and real world effect.

Until recently, this toy has mainly sat on the shelf as colorful decoration. But now that Olie is walking, he's really taken to pulling his duck around the apartment at breakneck speeds. He'll do 10 or 12 laps of the apartment before veering off to some other object of interest, which is a long time to hold an almost 1-year old's attention. He likes the toy so much he's even mustered up the gumption to say "duck," so add that to his small but growing list of words. So far, this list may include: light, mama, dada, that, and duck, though some are definitely open to debate and/or interpretation.

Also, I've another fine father-son moment to report from last evening. Each night we read to Oliver before he goes to bed. He is fond of books with texture, so I had picked out a book about puppies where each puppy is coated in a different velveteen texture. The textures in this book are subtle and Olie hadn't noticed, so I grabbed his finger and held it against each puppy's "fur." After a pause, Oliver then grabbed my finger, brought it to the picture, and moved my finger across the surface so that I could also feel the soft puppy fur. Before last night, he hadn't thought to share the experience with others. It was, if you'll pardon the painful pun, quite literally touching (sorry, author's privilege).