He has a rudimentary understanding of physics, whereby one physical object cannot pass through another. And, thanks to me, Ian knows that this little quirk of science can result in a lot of fun.
Oh let this be a dream.
I’ll be better next time.
I’ll watch, I’ll watch, I’ll watch.
Though you can’t call our yard a campground, my landscaping skills are such that we’re well on our way to becoming a forest preserve. We have lots of bugs. The crickets started chirping, and I heard Ian stir.
‘…I started to hear the warning signs of Ian’s emergence: singing, talking, and various thumping sounds which indicate either Ian’s jumping in his crib, or the previous night’s book(s) hitting the wall and/or floor.’
It isn’t as difficult to keep track of a walking child. At least, not at first. They never get very far, and usually fall every few feet. Even if you can’t see them, you can follow the thuds.
Kelly said she tried to put Ian to bed three times. As they got nearer to his room, Ian started to cry and shake his head. “No! No!”
…if Ian does anything, he does it on his own terms. And he won’t do it for long, because there are too many other things to do.
Ian isn’t the most graceful child I’ve ever seen, but he’s as nimble as a mountain goat. A fact which, for some reason, is very easy to forget.
And one night, before we realized he knew the word, he lifts his head, points to the sky, takes a deep breath and shouts, ‘Moon!’ Well, it sounds more like ‘noon’ or ‘dune’. But still.