For the Books

Posted by on Dec 13, 2007 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

I don’t usually write letters to the baby, but lately I’ve been wanting to talk to 18 year old Gideon (the one who I am going to have a hard time letting go of, but of whom I will be so incredibly proud). I thought I might tell him something like this….

This is your seventh month of life and I think you are becoming the kind of person I want to be around all the time. Before November you were all baby – stationary and cute, loving but easily tired to tears, fickle in all the ways that babies can be. Then one day all of those rocking motions came together and suddenly you were on the go. You haven’t looked back since and you are no longer just a baby. You are Gideon, explorer, conqueror, the strong warrior we hoped for, proudly crawling under things and into tiny spaces where you frequently get wedged.

A lot of other babies learn how to sit first and I am not surprised that you still don’t really sit. Instead you lean on your side, ala biblical characters reclining at a table, or you try to stay up while sitting back on your knees, just in case you need to make a beeline for a light socket or a speaker wire. You’re eyes are always scanning for the next adventure and even when your big baby head makes your fall backwards and smack your noggin on the floor, just watching the dogs run or the door stopper boing-ing can stop your pain.

I’m on guard now all the time, trying to insure that you don’t get huge bruises or a concussion – mostly for fear of having to explain what happened to a pediatrician or worse, the emergency room doc where I’m sure I’ll be turned in to CPS for negligence over not allowing you to get shots or an antibiotic. Speaking of which, I was watching some show on Discovery while you were napping and they had this crazy mom on who was using the tv as a babysitter. It was some sort of intervention that didn’t work, but at the end of the show she gets together in this coffee group with other moms and dads and one of the moms asks them all about their doctors because she doesn’t want to take her kid to an antibiotic pushing person who isn’t able to say “it’s a cold. Go home.” The tv mom was all “oh, just trust what the doctors say and don’t worry about the outcome. They are smarter than us. They went to med school. They know. We should just listen and obey.” It made me feel even more sad for her poor television zapped children. But it also explained a lot. This woman is just the kind of person who thinks that universal health care is a good thing. She’s the kind of woman who thinks that the government should provide things for us and tell us what to do because they know. They went to Washington. They must be smarter than us. We should just listen and obey and pay some more taxes and sit back while the federal government bans people from really succeeding financially by redistributing wealth over a certain amount. This is the kind of person that you will be encountering when you are being educated outside of our home because these, unfortunately, are the kind of people who are the product of our humanistic, post-post-modern world. I am sorry that there are so many of them, baby. I just hope you don’t become one of them when you are in college. So, don’t hit your head too hard or Mama might get hauled off somewhere for not obeying the CDC.

Anyway, seven month old Gideon is a blast. You just started a funny new laugh that sounds like one that I do sometimes – like air being pushed out of your nose while you smile. You don’t have any teeth yet, so that smile is all gums and incredibly delicious.

Tonight you found the little mole that is on your left knee and tried to pick it off your leg. When that didn’t work you just tried to eat your entire knee. It didn’t work very well, though I’m sure you were less successful because this was all going on in the bathtub which was very slick and added a higher degree of difficulty for that kind of contortionism.

I don’t know what you’ll discover tomorrow, but I’m looking forward to the sun rising just as much as you are.

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