11/12/2015

The Callum Chronicle #10

Filed under: — Aprille @ 2:22 pm

My sweet Callum,

My last little crustacean has worn the lobster costume.  You tolerated it pretty well, much as you do everything.  I hauled you and Tobin along to Miles’s school so I could take yearbook photos and help out with his class Halloween party.  All the big kids fawned over you, of course, and you were very well behaved as I assembled plates of snacks.  You were crawling around on a rug at one point, and I looked down and saw a thin stream of red coming out of your mouth.  I felt a swell of panic, sure that you’d swallowed a staple or something and perforated your mouth (or worse).  Luckily, the sniff test revealed that what you’d really swallowed was an M&M.  I’d been planning on holding you off of refined sugar and chocolate until you were at least a year old, but being the little guy who gets dragged around to big brothers’ events has its privileges.  You’ve also taken advantage of your big brothers’ carelessness in putting their Halloween treat bucket out of your reach.  I’m not encouraging such behavior, mind you, but I sort of admire your resourcefulness.

You’ve been eating all kinds of new foods lately, not just contraband.  You love all the meats I’ve given you so far—little bites of chicken and shredded beef and pork.  You also like little veggie bites, small chunks of fruit, and SnaPeas.  You would rather eat Miles’s Honey Nut Cheerios off the floor than the special low-sugar, honey-free cinnamon O’s cereal I got you.  Babies definitely aren’t supposed to have honey.  I hope the fine folks at General Mills use pasteurized honey.  I also hope Miles learns to eat without dropping 20% of them onto the floor.

You’re big enough now to sit in the big-kid section of the car cart at Hy-Vee, which is pretty special.  You’ll be really, really happy when I let you have one of the free cookies from the bakery.  It’s kind of torturous for you now to be so close to Tobin while he’s eating one.

We’ve all been sick to varying degrees over the last couple of weeks.  You had it first, I think, which manifested itself in some pretty crummy nights.  I’m glad your dad is always such a good sport about helping with nighttime duty, because I’m worthless if I don’t get a reasonable amount of sleep.  That’s even more the case when I’m sick, which I’ve been for a while now.  I’m almost better, and you seem a lot better too.  We’ve both had good nights again lately, which is a huge life-improver for everyone.

You’re super accomplished at pulling up against furniture now.  You’ll stand any time you have the chance, and you often let go with one hand and just use the other for balance.  You’ve also gotten interested in exploring the kitchen cabinets.  That’s a pretty good hobby, since it keeps you busy for a while as I prepare dinner.  So far I haven’t tripped over you while carrying anything hot.  I’ll do my very best to continue that streak.

You and your dad have been coming to Family Folk Machine rehearsals lately.  It’s nice because the kids there like to play with you, which makes it a little less stressful for him, and if you start getting truly inconsolable, I can hold you while I sing.  A terrible thing happened last weekend, though. Your dad motioned for me to come help him, because you’d pooped and he needed help finding the spare diaper in my purse.  It didn’t seem like too big a deal, but I followed him into the men’s room just to see if he needed some backup.

Oh boy.  It’s a good thing Tobin was dressed in layers, because after a few highly challenging minutes in the Senior Center men’s room that involved a bath in the sink and an unsalvageable onesie in the garbage can, you were wearing his shirt.  I hope the fellows who used the room between that night and the next janitorial service were old enough that their noses didn’t work anymore.

Photo by Gary Clarke

You still haven’t said any really obvious words, though you do blurt out quite a few “mamas.”  I don’t think they’re specifically directed to me, but I’m glad you are physically capable of saying it.  I’m continuing my training efforts, since I’m holding out hope that you’ll be my one baby who says “mama” for his first word.  You definitely understand some words.  I took you and Tobin to the playground yesterday, and I asked you, “Do you want to go on the swings?”  You laughed and wiggled and very clearly indicated that you knew a good time was ahead.  You and Tobin had a lot of fun swinging together.

Nobody loves you more than your brothers, Callum.  Miles rewrote the lyrics to the song “Fifteen Miles on the Erie Canal” so that rather than being about a mule named Sal, it’s about a baby named Cal.  They love helping you try new foods, playing with you in blanket forts, and making you laugh.

Photo by Denny

Okay, fine, if anybody loves you more than they do, it’s I.  I wouldn’t want to wrestle them for the title, though.

Love,

Mommy

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