What's in a name?

After all my efforts to get William to call me "Papa," he has recently taken to calling out "Dahn" from the other room, occasionally running up to the double French doors, slobbering all over the windows while he presses his face against the glass panels, and yelling out again, "Dahn," as if mocking me openly.

How did this happen, you ask? I'll be sitting here in front of the computer, minding my own business, and every now and then, Mirjam will call out my name from the kitchen. After having heard her call for me from across the house so many times, and having seen me appear from behind the doors on occasion, William caught on that I not only respond to "Baba," but also "Dahn."

I told Mirjam it's her fault he doesn't call me "Baba" anymore, and it's her responsibility to fix it.

Raisins for you

This morning as I was eating breakfast at the table, William pulled himself up onto the old, beige WILL-TV director's chair, and started picking up the little raisins that Mirjam gave him with his small, pincer-like fingers and plopped them in quick succession into his mouth. I gave him a couple of milked-down bites of the bran portion of my Raisin Bran, which he gladly accepted. Then he started to climb onto the table.

I thought he was going to come after my bowl of cereal with both fists, as he has done before. Instead, once he was perched just inches from me and my bowl, he stretched out his hand toward my mouth, and then I noticed something small and almost-black between his fingers. He gently pushed the raisin between my lips, and after I said "thank you" he picked up the last one from the table and pushed that into my mouth, too.

He carefully pushed his way backward off the table and back onto the canvas director's chair, and I gave him another bite of the bran. He is such a great little boy.

"You must unlearn what you have learned"

Mirjam noticed this week, that William has stopped saying "Mama" altogether, and is now exclusively proclaiming "Ba-ba" when he needs something. Triumph! Uh, I mean, I'm trying to get him to say "Mama" again. Ahem.

The Force is strong with this one

Tonight we had a big Halloween party at our house, with lots of friends and lots of food. Costumes were encouraged, and, of course, we had a family costume theme.

I was Obi-Wan Kenobi (yes, I grew a beard just for the costume) Mirjam was Padme Amidala, and William was Yoda. Mirjam made a light brown robe, and a green hat with Yoda ears for William to wear (he was incredibly adorable, of course). She also made a light cape to go with her white outfit for herself. I sewed my own dark brown Jedi robe, and Mirjam helped with the hood and a couple of strips of fabric that ended up looking like a tunic under my robe.

Next year we'll have to construct a blaster for Mirjam and a light saber for me. We got a couple pictures tonight, but I want to get a some more good ones during the day with more light--maybe this Saturday.

Sharing with Papa

Last week I fell asleep on the couch, and in the morning, after William woke up, he came over to the couch, greeted me excitedly ("Baba!"), and saw that I had left a cup on the table from the night before. He carefully picked up the big blue plastic tumbler, still half full, with both hands, lifted it to his mouth, and either tried to drink something or pretended to take a sip of whatever was inside, not sure if he wanted to tip it all the way back.

Then, because he's such a nice person and he likes to share, he gently put the edge of the cup to my mouth--I was still lying on the couch, half asleep--and lifted it to make sure I got some water. Splash! The cup emptied onto my face and dripped down my cheek onto the cushion, then onto the floor.

I just lay there, my face dripping with last night's water, for a couple minutes. William didn't laugh (he didn't think he'd done anything funny) and he didn't run away (he didn't think he'd done anything wrong) he just went along his business and kept playing with other things in the living room as I lay there, still stunned by the face full of water.

Mmm-hmm?

William has gotten the hang of saying "Mama" (or sometimes "Baba," when I remind him) when he needs help, and now he's starting to grasp the association a little better.

Mirjam told me that when she drives by the Park and Ride lot, William will look out the window and say "Baba!" He also squeaks and says "Baba" when he sees me step off the bus. I could eat him up, and as you know, I sometimes take a little nibble here or there out of his neck or ear if he gets to close.

Well, last week, he started doing something a little different. When Mirjam asks him a question, any question, he answers with a simple, upward-inflected, "Mmm-hmm." For example:

Mirjam: William, do you like to eat your apple?

William: Mmm-hmm. (Not bothering to look up, as if this is all quite normal, and nothing new.)

Mirjam: Do you also like applesauce?

William: Mmm-hmm. (Slightly glancing up.)

Mirjam: Do you want to go to bed?

William: Mmm-hmm. (Smirking now, as if he understands the question.)

Mirjam: Do you know how to drive the car?

William: Nnn-hnn. (Smiling more, with each successive question.)

Jon: William, are you ten feet tall?

William: *blank stare*

Mirjam: William, do you like to read your Corduroy book?

William: Uhh-huh. (Now almost laughing at this silly game.)

Mirjam: Are you ready for bath time, William?

William: Aah-haa! (Now laughing with each answer.)

He doesn't understand the questions yet, but it's too much fun to play with him to care about little details like that. He must have picked up the habit listening to us answering each other, or him when he babbles to us:

William: Glaldegledabelgdiggledigel. (Sometimes nodding, always very certain of his important statement.)

Jon and Mirjam: Mmm-hmm! (In the same encouraging, upward-inflected tone he has now adopted.)

I tried to get some of this on video, because it's just so hilarious that he answers questions like this now. Of course, the moment I turn the video camera on, he becomes fascinated with it and stops answering questions. I'll have to keep trying some hidden camera moments.

Mba-ba

Earlier this week, William started saying "Mama" for the first time. He babbles a *lot* all day long, but doesn't have any complete words yet. He whines and grunts when he needs something, which isn't as adorable as he usually is, so Mirjam taught him to say "Mama" instead. It goes something like this:

William: Nnnh...nnnh...aaaaahhh!

Mirjam: Say "Mama!"

William: Mma-ma.

Mirjam: Good!

He picked up on it quickly. Of course, after a few days of him saying "Mama" I started to get a little jealous, especially since he said "Mama" to me, too, when he wanted something. So I taught him to say "Papa." The first time, it went something like this:

William: Nnnh...nnnh...aaahhh!

Jon: Say "Papa"

William: *blank stare*

Jon: Pah-pah.

William: *kind of put his lips together*

Jon: Pah-pah... Pah-pah...

William, concentrating hard: Mba-ba.

Jon: Good! Mirjam, he said "Papa!"

William: Mama!


It's a start.


Edit: I forgot to mention that when he first started saying "Mba-ba" he had to concentrate so hard to make his mouth move the way he needed it to, that he blinked every time he did it. It was so adorable, of course, that we laughed at him/with him every time he said it.

William's first words...kind of

We've been teaching William a few basic signs so he can communicate with us more easily, since he won't be able to say words for at least a few months, and sentences a few months after that.

He's been able to clap for a while now, and he can stretch out his arms above his head for "yeah!" He can also wave goodbye and sometimes he'll blow kisses. But now, he puts his fingertips to his mouth for "hungry," he interlocks his fingers for prayer, he puts his fists together for "shoes," and he puts his hand on the side of his face for "bedtime."

A couple of days ago he had a major breakthrough. Without gesturing at all with my hands, I simply asked him if he was hungry. He responded by putting his fingertips to his mouth. It was incredible! He had recognized what I said and was able to answer the question with the appropriate sign! Then today, Mirjam wanted to take him outside before it got too hot, and we were looking for his blue leather giraffe shoes. I asked William if he knew where his shoes were, and he made the sign for shoes! Incredible.

He's learning so many things every day, it's hard to keep up with them all.

Feeding frenzy

I just got done feeding William. I need to shower again.

Since when do children believe their feeding technique is more efficient than mine? I insert the little spoon into the mush, scoop some mush, scrape the spoon on the side of the mush container, insert the spoon with mush into a gaping wide baby mouth, and scoop upwards as I pull the spoon out. Repeat until mush is gone.

William seems to think that his motor skills are better than mine. Once the spoon is in his mouth, he clamps down with his terrible teeth of terror, and he won't let go unless the spoon is in his own hands. He inspects the spoon with his eyes and fingers, taps on his plastic high-chair table like a drum, and points and grunts to the mush container as if to say, "Come on, let me try." "Sure, why not?" I think, not remembering that he tricked me like this the last time I tried to feed him.

So I helped William guide the spoon into the mush, scooped out a small amount, and helped him guide the spoon back towards his mouth. Again he wanted to inspect the spoon, this time with mush on it. Of course if he's not happy with my assistance, he flaps his arms, grabs my shirt, and wails for a second or two. Mush everywhere.

I quickly finished off the last of the mush and gave him some Cheerios, a piece of toast, and a bottle with diluted apple juice. Amazingly, in the process of snarfing down the Cheerios like there's a war on, and sloshing the juice around like a bum, his face and fingers ended up relatively clean. I don't know how he does it. Maybe his method is better.

What's that noise?

A few ways we manage to communicate with William:

He started when he was very young with a simple "nnn-G" or "mmm-MA!" He gradually added the traditional "da-da-da-da" and "ma-ma-ma-ma" to his repertoire, and occasionally the "ba-ba-ba-ba." But he's added a little complexity in the last few months.

One day I noticed William copy me as I inhaled quickly through my nose. So I started rapidly sniffing in and out like a dog panting through his nose. William looked up at me, squinted his nose, and did the same quick in-out "sniffsniffsniffsniff." I showed Mirjam when she got home. She loved it.

William can also click his tongue now, and if you start, he'll smile at you and join right in with his slow "click...click...click." He used to make a "brrrbrrr" noise with his lips. Now he stick his tongue out slightly between his teeth and blows a sort of slobbery, smiley "thhhbthhh."

Of course we encourage all of this. We're terrible.

Our favorite is in church when he sings along during the hymns. I set him on my lap, open the book and let him hold the sides, making sure he doesn't rip the pages out while he watches Mirjam conducting the music. I doesn't do words yet, just a simple "aaaah-ahhh." It seems as if he's unaware that he's even singing. He just does it to join in with everyone else.

On Easter Sunday we sang "All Creatures of Our God and King," and after each verse, I could hear William carry over for a second after the organ had stopped playing and everyone had stopped singing. Mirjam has to really control herself, standing in front of the entire congregation. I can't help but laugh, knowing that the rest of the congregation can hear him, too.

Sometimes I sing to him at home, and I catch him quietly moving his lower jaw up and down as if he were mouthing the words without making a sound. He's so adorable I could eat him up.

Big & Tall

William discovered tonight that he is big enough to reach the horizontal oven door handle. He reached way up with one hand, grabbed on with his fingertips, then pulled slightly while pushing up on his tip-toes and grabbed on with his other hand. Of course once he had a firm grip, he got really excited and started rocking forward and back, taking the oven door along with him. Bang-squeak, bang-squeak, bang!

Carrot stick

As Mirjam was cleaning the kitchen tonight, she gave William a big round carrot to chew on while he crawled around. So he stuck it in his mouth and started to crawl around, the carrot sticking straight out in front of him, showing him which direction to go in. If he turned and looked to the side, the carrot reeled around with him. Ocassionaly he plopped down on his diaper-padded rump and pulled the carrot out with a hand or two and chewed or nibbled or gnawed on the end of it.

If this were a real emergency...

William plays with the phone a lot. He crawls over to the side of the bed in our room where the phone used to be on the corner shelf. It's on the floor now, because that's where it inevitably ends up every day. He loves to pull on the cords--oh, how he loves cords, of all kinds. He likes to chew on them and tug at them, and wave his arms frantically while holding onto them and squealing with joy.

He also likes to press the buttons. That was one of his first controlled actions with his hands. He holds onto the side of the phone and presses downward with one of his fingers or thumb. Sometimes he leaves the phone off the hook and crawls away. He hasn't learned to put it back yet, so I have to do it for him. Our cordless phone battery has suffered grieviously since William started excercising his button-pushing fingers. *Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep* I once found it lying on the floor with the readout showing it had been off the hook well over 90 minutes. That little green LCD screen seemed to be crying out, "Put me back on the charging station, please!"

Today, William learned how to dial the telephone. I was lying on the bed watching him play with the phone on the floor, and he seemed to be finished, so I hung up the reciever. A few seconds later, the phone rang again, so I picked it up:

"Hello?"

"This is the Provo Police Department. We just received a 911 call from this phone number, is everything okay?"

"Oh. Yeah, that must have been my son," I said with a smile toward William. He didn't care at all; didn't even look up. He just kept playing. Typical.

The nice woman on the other end then verified our address, thanked me, and hung up.

"Thanks," I said, thinking she probably gets a lot of those calls in our town.

There's no stopping them

A few nights ago, William was having a hard time sleeping. I was still up, and I didn't want to wake Mirjam. I was wondering why he wasn't sleeping as well as usual, then it hit me. He had been drooling a lot lately, too. It could only mean one thing: another tooth.

I pulled him out of his crib, and between sobs of grief (his, not mine), I pushed his lip out of the way to see a small slit in his lower gum next to the two teeth that were already there. I triumphantly marched with William to the bathroom, proud of my sleuthing abilities, and gave him a dab of Anbesol, which he quickly sucked off my finger. It takes some doing to actually plant the stuff on the proper gum without his tongue moving in to take over.

Sticking out his tongue

William stuck his tongue out today for the first time. It just happened, out of the blue. I can't tell you how absolutely hilarious it was. He just sat there, sticking his tongue out and pulling it back in. Later he combined his tongue trick with his "dadadada" noises, chewing on the end of it with with his mouth closed while talking to us. Of course we had to mimick him. "Mlamlamlam." We don't mind encouraging potentially bad habits right now. They're just too darn cute.

Just standing around

Last week William started standing for a few seconds without holding on to anything. It happens sometimes while he's holding a boardbook from the library or his sippy bottle or his little stuffed elephant. He ocassionally leans with his back or stomach gently up against the chair or the couch or my legs to keep his balance. But every now and then he pulls himself up to a standing position and grabs on to something with one hand, leaving the other in place to help him stay up. Then without a second thought, or any concious decision, he just lets go, holding with both hands his treaure for that moment, and simply stands there looking at it, completely unaware of what he's actually doing, and totally oblivious to his parents who are quietly bursting with joy over the simple act of their little boy standing on his own two feet.