Thursday, October 26, 2006

Reports of his toddlerhood greatly exaggerated

A little over a week ago, I reported that Lucas had taken his first two steps.

We're still there, folks. Tonight we met the two-step threshold again, but three steps in a row are apparently just too difficult for him. He and I are flying down to see my parents in a week, and they're expecting him to be walking by then. It would indeed be kind of nice if he was walking at least part of the time because they have wood floors through most of the house now, and last time he came back with bruised knees from crawling.

So yes, I still have a big baby. He does think it's hilarious when I trick him into walking a step or two on his own, but then he falls into the floor, giggling in a big baby heap.

Have I mentioned he's fastidious as all hell? He'll take things from my desk drawers and either (a) replace them on his own after playing with them or (b) drop them on the floor while sitting on my lap, then climb down from my lap and hand them up to me, piece by piece, by category--pens first, then pencils, erasers, rulers, etc. It's the damndest thing.

And tonight he tore up a piece of wheat bread into tiny pieces and placed all of them in the cupholder on his highchair tray. There wasn't even the tiniest crumb on the rest of the tray.

Is this child really related to me? Clearly he has some of the uber-organized (if not always sparkling clean) Mr. Trillwing in him.

The babysitter comes tomorrow and I'm trying to figure out what to do with my time: work on my journal article or this book proposal. I'm guessing it will be the latter since the proposal is due in a few days. I also promised an editor at the American Studies Association conference that I'd send her a book proposal for my dissertation.

Look at me, pretending to be a writer and all. Good thing I quit my job several years ago to go back to school and get that shiny Ph.D., eh? Now, what was that job, again? Oh yes, I was a writer.


P.S. I'm sad. Twitter isn't letting me log in.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

but then he falls into the floor, giggling in a big baby heap.

this sounds like the cutest thing ever!

Breena Ronan said...

Maybe you just half to re-frame the issue, pretty soon you'll miss his babyhood.

Anonymous said...

did twitter start letting you in?

It seems like they fixed some login bugs right after you mentioned this.

trillwing said...

Anonymous, Nope. I had to change my login info, but for some reason they let me keep all my friends w/o making me reinvite them. So that's cool.

ArticulateDad said...

A writer... that's what I keep thinking. A writer?

There's something about that title that doesn't sit with me well, though I begin to think more and more it may be what I become.

A few years ago, I penned a book review in which I complained the author was "a journalist" which in fact he was, rather than "a scientist" which he was pretending to be.

My (ex-)step-father, now a professor of writing, but for more than thirty years simply "a writer", has been for me a model of what I don't wish to be (as a person at least). My father was a failed writer (though quite a good poet!).

A writer... it just brings up so much baggage for me. A scholar, yes. A researcher, sure. But... I guess we've got to write. Lots to think about.