Oliver hit a major toddler milestone last Friday. He ate his first dog food. In our home we have something called the 15 second rule. If Olie is out of eyesight and you hear him, fine. If, however, he is quiet for more than 15 seconds, run. And fast. But last week, thinking that Oliver was in a "safe zone" (a fully baby-proofed area), Mom ignored the 15 second rule until her maternal insincts finally kicked in. Upon approaching the front door, she found Olie happily munching on a bag of Bella's treats like it was a pint-size bag of Doritos.
Two Sundays ago I came into the living room to find Olie standing on the rocking chair "hanging ten" - holding on to the back and demonstrating great feats of balance by "surfing." It was quite interesting to watch him snake his way up into the seat which is too high for him to step onto. That is, until while I was observing this with zoological detachment, he nearly tipped the whole thing over. (The rocking chair is now sequestered in our bedroom behind the Bella gate.) Other great moments achieved when pushing the 15 second threshold: Oliver somehow standing inside the tub (He got in there without smashing his head by again employing that same snake technique.); Olie in the bathroom running the cold water, with only his legs visible from behind the shower curtain; and Olie standing in his cart pushing the handle back and forth to make the whole thing move.
More than one set of childless friends have inquired, "Is he always this busy?" The answer is, "yes," but we find ways of coping. First, we're alot more impervious to potential disaster than our friends: a.k.a., we don't react until absolutely necessary, hoping beyond hope that the situation will resolve itself. Second, Olie still sleeps a lot (back to 2 naps a day) giving M&D a few breaks to catch our collective breath. Third, watching our friends' children, we realize that this phase is temporary. When we went to visit Al and family over Christmas (where we were treated to Chad's aforementioned couque au vin), we saw that Olie was in the hell-bent-on-killing-himself phase somewhere in between Al's daughters: Audrey, an adorable, immobile 5 mo. old; and her older daughter, Tilly. At 2.5, Tilly was still very active, but knew enough not to touch the wood stove, throw everything in the shower out onto the floor, grab every fragile object and hurl it to the floor, plunge off furniture, etc. Watching her I could begin to imagine the light at the end of the tunnel. (It was also totally cute watching Tilly and Olie walk around the house sharing a cup of pomegranate juice.)
Chad and I have also determined that being a parent takes an enormous sense of humor, both so you can get right down on your child's level and play and so you appreciate their quirks. Like the fact that he's obsessed with being upside down. (Another woman in our dance class said that her daughter went through this phase.) Olie simply loves to be held be his feet and tossed around by Dad. If no adult is around to flip him, he simply doubles over himself. I'll often catch him, butt in the air, taking in a whole new perspective on things.
But perhaps the most important thing that gets us through the day, is simply how rewarding Oliver can be. He never ceases to delight us with his smiles. He loves to play hide and seek and is quite good at both. The other day I ran frantically around the house calling for Oilver only to find him quietly hiding behind a curtain, clever. Olie also astounds us with all he knows. His comprehensive vocabulary is huge. Though he can't yet speak, when prompted he can identify almost everything in his alphabet book. He has also added a few more signs: "bird," "airplane," and "helicopter." I guess this month we're focussing on "things in the sky." Oh wait, and "fish." So, I guess we're simply keeping with the theme of "animals" and "machines." As for spoken words, everything that starts with a 'B" seems to be on the tip of Olie's tongue. "Ball" is very clealy "ba." "Bus" is "bu"; "baby" is "be be"; "Bella" is "Bu bu." Oliver also hisses like a snake.
In many ways Olie is a model child. I constantly hear other parents bemoan that fact that their 14 month old is getting up at 5 or even 4 (!!!) in the morning, while our Olie often sleeps til 7:30 or 8. This weekend, he even slept til 9am! And though Olie can protest, his tantrums are nothing compared to others I've seen on the playground and he usually gets over things very quickly.
When New York subway or apartment stairs require us to hoist Olie's stroller like a prince in a litter, I refer to him as Prince Charming. And he often lives up to this moniker, particularly when out in public. One of the greatest gifts Olie bestows on his parents is his awesome ability to sit fit-free at restaurants. Last Friday, Chad, Olie, and I took went out to dinner. We had forgotten a sippy cup for Oliver, so Chad developed a game of dropping juice into Olie's mouth through a straw, which also served to entertain all involved. Oliver loved the game and we all laughed hardily.
But Olie does not always need to be entertained. While his parents try to maintain some semblance of pre-parent normalcy, Oliver is quite content to stuff his face with bread and play with spoons or straws. He almost always partakes in whatever we've ordered. Last Friday, it was pesto and puttenesca. At one point I looked over to see Olie in hysterics. He was flirting with the couple at the next table, tilting his head and smiling. It wasn't long before he had the whole restaurant wrapped around his little finger. The aforementioned couple stopped by as they were leaving to make a big fuss over how good he was, and how "gorgeous" he was. In fact, the man threatened that he might just take Olie home. Across the room, the hostess was beside herself and kept making faces at Olie who consistently beamed his toothy grin back at her. Yet another man came up to us later and exclaimed, "That kid is so good, if you ever need a babysitter..." It was a proud moment for the whole family.
While Oliver and I were reading one of his books a few nights back, he pointed to a cartoon depicted dog and said, “Woof!” While for some time he’s been pointing out chickens, birds, cats, cows, dogs, frogs, and even the occasional worm, heretofore "woof" had not been a part of his repertoire. He hisses like a snake, meows like a cat, makes monkey sounds while patting his chest (no brutish pounding, mind you), trumpets like an elephant, moos like a cow, rumbles while pushing cars, trucks, tractors about, but for some reason "woof" remained out of his reach, a more advanced sound, if you will. Of course, Bella the Bulldog would argue that woofing is obviously an advanced skillset and that this should have been obvious to me all along.
At any rate, trust you me that I have been woofing at him for a very, very long time. Then, suddenly, "woof" just happened. Now, when asked what sound a doggie makes, he pauses, concentrates very hard and utters a fine little "woof." Since he's already prone to eating dog food, we now have a perfectly shocking little trick for the next party we host.
