The Monster Roars – Recently, Brody has developed a rather annoying habit. He has discovered that if he gently lifts his larynx, lowers his diaphragm, and supports a steady stream of breath riding over his vocal chords, he can roar like a monster. And I mean ROAR. Like putty his little monkey face squishes distinctly before the roar passes through his pungent lips.
Beau and I marveled at and venerated over this newly formed knack at first debut. However by the third or fourth performance, we realized his roar could be suspect of manipulation and exploitation.
We decided the most affective way to condition our monster would be by delaying our recognition of the roar. While he is not fully domesticated as of yet, there is definite progress and we anticipate a pacification of the beast soon.
While Swinging Doors – Brody is obsessed. If there is a door within sight, there is very little that can distract him from clambering across the room to play with it. Beau entertained – and tried to convince me of – the idea of not baby-proofing the house as a way to teach Brody not to get into trouble. In other words, let Brody get into things he shouldn’t, and if he gets hurt he will learn his lesson. I know this sounds harsh and believe me I had no intentions of falling for this method, but it was suggested by Beau with good intention.
Brody went from somewhat mobile to (arguably) MVP Baby Crawler in seemingly no time. It was the morning when Brody had swung open a cabinet door, pulled out the Windex and spilled it all over himself, in a matter of 2.2 seconds, that Beau was convinced child-proofing was probably a good idea.
We still give him access to many doors throughout the house, and he could likely spend an entire day swinging doors open and shut over and over again, without tedium. Occasionally Brody will inadvertently close a door during play, and at these moments the monster roar resurfaces, but we pick and choose our battles every day with this little man and have learned to prop the door in a way to avoid its latching, and subsequently the bellow of the beast.
On Squeaky Floors – Our little bungalow is old. 90 years to be exact. When we initially toured the house during our pre-purchase showing phase, we were exceedingly charmed by this trait. The main floor of the house features all original hardwood and it always warms me to imagine the array of footsteps – small and big - that categorically walked these planks. That was, until a baby came into the picture.
Every night after Brody slips into slumber, Beau and I typically retire to our family room in the basement. There we are able to audibly enjoy the capacity of Beau’s life-long coveted and acquired (and excessive in my opinion) entertainment system.
Imagine the path from your living room to your bedroom is covered in egg shells. Now imagine those egg shells not only crumble, but also pop and crackle when stepped on, at a decibel that could arguably rival Beau’s top of the line Bose (pun) subwoofer. Crossing this path quietly and swiftly is the feat we attempt to conquer every night. On most nights, we are successful. However…
I know you moms who are reading this can relate to what I am about to admit to. Every night, it is completely impossible for me to retire to bed without creeping into Brody’s room for a peak of the rise and fall of his chest cavity indicating a steady little breath. I simply can’t imagine slumbering away without that being the last image of my day. Unfortunately this means I risk waking the monster with every crickety creaking this task undoubtedly unveils.
It goes without saying that our next house will be creaky-floor-free, and we are very thankful that the apartment we are moving into in TC does not contain hardwood.
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