Monday, 5 April 2010
There's A Wild Thing Upstairs...
This wild thing seems an expert in wild ferocious sounding shrieks and roars; low, rumbling growling sounds that come from the bottom of his throat (I swear I didn't teach him these); and joyful gales of giggles that erupt from his bedroom and float down the stairs long after he's been put to bed and to be totally honest with you, the best word I can think of to describe his actual laughter is all out "guffaw".
There are two things that this wild thing finds unbearably awful. The first is having his face wiped, which he finds the very height of presumption on my part. The second is when I put a hat on his head. He doesn't cry or fuss when I do this. He scrunches up his eyes and glares at me, clenches his fists and shakes them in the air and roars with outrage at me. I think he thinks it's a fearful sight to behold. But you know what, he's smaller than I am and so I laugh, which obviously just rubs salt in the wound, and that hat goes on.
There is one thing the wild thing loves above all else. In Sri lanka we bought him blue dolphin chimes and he is entranced by them. When he wakes up, after giving an encouraging, cheerful little yell, (there are so many sorts you see), to let us know he's awake and we can come get him this very instant, he twists his head in the direction of the chimes. So we go over to them and give them a nudge and as they make their soft sound and the dolphins sway back and forth, a look of blissful awe comes over his face. Then a slow, slow smile. And then he starts hitting me in excitement and squealing in delight and frantically twisting his head between me and the chiming dolphins to make sure than I find this as wondrous as he does. How could I find it otherwise?
He kicks constantly in his crib with all his might and every time I enter his room after a nap, he is in some bizarre position. But even with one arm and one leg poking through the crib bars, he offers up a huge smile like this is the most normal way to sleep in the world.
He has a great sense of his own self worth and self importance. He simply is charming in his own opinion. Yogurt splattered all over his face? Oatmeal dribbling out of his mouth? Huge belches at the table? Appallingly stinky diaper? No, he feels none of these things detract from his innate charm. He beams at the camera just the way he is and is suitably outraged if anyone tries to make him more presentable. Why tamper with perfection after all? :)
So William, my sweet, silly little boo, with your huge brown eyes and beautiful smile: this is a tiny, woefully incomplete glimpse of how you were when you were in the ninth month of your life.