My son turned two years old today. It was about time.
It’s a strange thing. We had the family birthday party yesterday at his mom’s new home, all four of his grandparents were there, his brother, and great-grandmother (step), plus some of his mom’s friends. It was a great opportunity for everybody to see how far his development has come.
Everyone was impressed when he used a napkin to wipe cake residue from his mouth. At one point he walked into the living room, picked up a small paper plate, and proceeded to pile crackers and dip on it. Then he sat down in his little chair and munched away.
For most of the people watching, possibly including myself, it was akin to watching a monkey completing a Sudoku.
Or watching someone become a little human being.
Victor can spend long moments staring out windows, hands clasped behind his back, watching the world and appearing to write epic poetry to himself.
He also loves to dance.
And he can spend fifteen minutes at a time running around my apartment, dodging furniture, carrying random objects from one area to another area and stacking them on other random objects, laughing the whole time.
Laughing and smiling take up large parts of his day. One of his most favourite things is watching lights turn on and off. When I’m carrying him he’s always reaching out for light switches. When I bring him close enough he’ll flick the switch, then turn his head really fast, as if he wants to see the actual process of the light being activated. But he’s always just a touch slow.
Eventually, I believe, he’ll be quicker than light.
A few weeks ago he discovered the righteous power of “no”, which has become one of his favourite words. So now, when I reach for his bottle, he hides it behind his back, his forehead gets all furrowed, and he says “no-no no-no” until my arm goes away. Basically he has decided he’s had enough with this ‘people taking his stuff’ crap.
Which, over the past few months, has led to some confrontations with his older brother. Basically the only time Victor ever really freaks out is when the two of them are in the back seat of the car, and his older brother starts teasing him with his own toys.
I keep trying to explain to Victor’s older brother that, eventually, Victor will be much larger. But my girlfriend’s oldest son is only six-years old, and apparently they don’t teach kids in grade one about genetics.
But, back seat politics aside, they do love each other.
A few weeks ago Victor also started saying “hello” whenever the phone rang. Now he’s doing it when he really wants our attention, and he’s specific about it as well — “hello… momma” and “hello… daa-daa”.
So, two years ago, the water broke, and my girlfriend got to ride in an ambulance, and we both spent the weekend in the maternity ward of the Ottawa General Hospital, and Victor was born on 12 / 12 / 09, at 9:48pm. He cried a little, his eyes were open and active, and he kept sticking his tongue out, like he was tasting the air.
I cut his cord (with surgical scissors I later stole), he weighed 6lbs 9ozs, and because he was (slightly) premature he spent his first six hours of life in intensive care. I sat with him for two or three hours while he slept in the plastic box, all wrapped up in a tea towel sized blanket, and explained to him how awesome he was going to be.
And I was right.