The interloper

Picture Linus with his blankets. Now multiply that by two and add a frog head to one and a bear to the other.  That is my son.  When he is tired he will take his soft blankets and rub them against his cheek, or lie on the floor with them under his head like a pillow.  When he lies down at night he makes sure he has one grasped tightly in each chubby little fist.  He knows that his blankets belong in the crib for bedtime, but he loves to reach between the crib slats and rescue them.  During the great prison break he grabs his pacifier as well, pops it his mouth and takes off with the blankets, giggling and toddling down the hall.  Invariably he steps on a blanket and slows down, gets distracted by something more exciting like a puzzle or the chance to go downstairs, and then he very solemnly takes the paci out of his mouth, throwing it and the blankets down simultaneously with both hands.   He doesn’t just accidentally drop one in his tracks along the way, rather it is a very deliberate and dramatic gesture.  “Now I am through with bedtime things and ready to play!”

  As heartwarming as it is to see Nicholas cuddled up with his blankies, my husband and I recently realized the seriousness of the attachment he has to them.  After hearing a horror story of a friend losing her son’s lovey and having to expedite a replacement one at an exorbitant fee, we decided to purchase a backup blanket, an emergency blanket if you will, in case Nicholas lost one or both!  Now, of course exact replicas of these two blankets are no longer in production.  The manufacturers change out the designs every season.  So Andy decided to purchase a “similar” blanket.  This one also had a blue blanket and a bear head, but the bear head was brown rather than blue, and stitched on the front was a tiny car.  Nicholas LOVES cars and trucks, so he thought this would be perfect. Boy, were we dead wrong.  Not only did Nicholas not take to the new blanket, he immediately and vehemently despised it.  If we tried to hand it to him, he would fuss and make a terrible face, pushing the blanket away or grabbing it and throwing it aside in disgust.  This “interloper” was not only disliked, it was not welcome in Nicholas’ sphere of toys. 

  We sadly retired the discarded bear blanket to the toy bin and set about to try phase two of our backup blanket plan.  Did you know that there is a huge market for second hand loveys on ebay?  $40 later we had procured two identical substitutes.  We received our highly anticipated backup blankets in the mail within a week, and hesitatingly offered them to our little blanket connoisseur.   His eyes widened as he saw TWO frogs and TWO bears.  We held our breath, and then collectively sighed in relief as his smile widened and he grabbed for the blankets.  The only problem is that he now loves to grab all four and race around the house!  And yes, he is just a little bit spoiled :).  

    picture staged for dramatic effect :).

A boy and his bike

There is something about a boy and his first bike. A bond instantly created--eyes light up when he sees that shiny red metal.
  Nicholas recently inherited a rusty radio flyer tricycle from the neighbors.  Aside from the rust it's in great shape.  The pedals still move the wheels, and most importantly, the bell chimes a distinct-brrriing!  I didn't even realize Nicholas knew the word bike, until he pointed at it in the corner of the porch, hidden behind the rocking chair and tangled amidst cobwebs, and distinctly said "BK."  His vowels are a bit muted, but the consonants came out strong and clear.  He won't be able to even touch the pedals, I thought, but nevertheless I wheeled out the bike and wiped it clean.  Nicholas climbed astride the metal frame eagerly, and firmly grasped both handlebars as if he already knew what he was doing.  He left his feet astride either side, but when I encouraged him to fit them to the pedals, they reached!  I gently pushed him down the driveway, and his smile widened from ear to ear.  His little feet firmly planted on the pedals, his little knees pumped up and down with my pushing...he held on tighter when I went faster, and chortled in delight.  He truly has a chortle--a giggle that bursts out in loud delight whenever he's especially happy about something.  It's usually followed by happy feet, but in this case his feet were already occupied.  As we slowed down he began to inspect the bike and came across the little bell.  Something that makes noise!  A little boy's delight.  If you ask him to ring the bell he does with intense concentration like it means something very important.
   As I lie in bed tonight and listen to the thunder rumbling above, I realize the little bike is still out in the yard.  His daddy has given it a shiny new coat of red and white and I'm afraid it might get wet and return to its rusty former self. It's under our giant umbrella tree in the front yard, however, so I'm comforted that it will be sheltered from the storm.  I picture the bike as I last saw it, tucked under the tree in the bright, hot May afternoon.  I realize this image has formed a memory, one that I will return to whenever I am nostalgic for the days of little boy Nicholas.  This makes me sad and happy at the same time.