Sunday, April 20, 2008

Monito Flips

Yeah, sure, he's turned over before, from back to front, front to back.  But the little boy hasn't ever realized that he could DO IT ON COMMAND. 

Last night, Monito was quite sad when I tossed him back in his crib at 3 am in a fit of irritated exhaustion after the fourth HOUR of the must-keep-nipple-in-mouth-or-I'll-scream-bloody-murder bonanza.  Pacifiers are so very nine months, you see, and only live flesh will do now.  Anyway, he listened to his mobile and watched stuff spin around for 20 minutes while carrying on a chat with his zebra, then fussed (wah, wah, wah, pause, pause, repeat) for about 30 minutes, then hunkered down for some serious crying.  Pequita and Homestead Mama dozed through all this but I was awake and listening for the change in tone that signified irreparable mental trauma from neglect.  All of a sudden, Monito thrashed in anger and accidentally rolled over onto his stomach in his crib.  Instant quiet.  Shock.  Then I could hear the smile crack across his face.  From this new position on his stomach, he immediately did what his sister has taught him and stood up, held onto the crib bars and bounced.  This feat of self control precipitated such an episode of happy chortling and mirth that it was nigh impossible not to leap up and dance him proudly around the room, but I was  busy laying the groundwork for the crib training that is rushing at the little nipple-obsessed booger by ignoring him.  Then he realized that although he was vertical, he still had no nipple in his mouth and began to cry in earnest.  At this point I took pity on Pequita who was stirring and fetched the boy back into my bed. 

Man alive, but things are moving fast with him now.  He has been pulling to a stand and scooting along furniture with ease for a few weeks, and can beat me to the dogs' water bucket with enough of a head start.  He has begun to crawl to the center of a space where there is no support and perform a maneuver that resembles a surfer trying to rise to his feet on his board on the open ocean - hands extended out for balance, a slow rise to one knee and then the wobbly attempt to rise to a stand on both feet.  He still inevitably falls kerplunk onto his butt, but he grins the whole time.  (Finally, Dad, we really can't leave him unattended on the diaper changing table.)  It has been a blissfully long run of him being a potato and not even making efforts to move, but the days of Monito being where we put him down are gone for good.  I have a picture of him standing in his crib, but have to wait to post it until I download it off the camera.  It is almost 3 am and I can't sleep because of the cough that I have, but I'll be damned if I commit to being awake enough to deal with more technology than simple blogging. 

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