It's late Sunday night, Jude and John Patrick are upstairs, asleep, and I'm sitting at my old desk in our office, listening to John Coltrane and shaking my head in amazement as I wonder how could it possibly be that my son turned two years old today. It seems impossible, but the past year, his second , passed by more quickly than his first. How can that be?
John Patrick, or J.P., as we call him most of the time, has grown and changed so much in the past year. So many firsts for him, so many accomplishments, so many new activities.
Not too long after his first birthday, as he and I sat in our front yard on a blanket on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon while Jude napped upstairs, he crawled after my cell phone when I tossed it away from him. This doesn't seem like such a big deal now, but at the time, I was so excited, I called Jude on my cell phone, woke her up and told her to come downstairs and watch J.P. crawl.
A couple of months later, on a spring evening, Jude, J.P. and I were playing on the back deck while I grilled out. Jude said, "watch this," and he walked across the deck to me, smiling all the way. Now, he was reeling, at times, like a drunken sailor, but he was definitely walking. He walked back and forth between us, over and over again. Jude and I laughed and laughed. Man, were we proud.
J.P. fell in love with the "Baby Einstein" dvds (we have several). As a rule, we don't let him watch much television, but when we do, it's almost always "Baby Einstein."
Actually, J.P. fell in love with "Thomas the Train," too. For a while, that's almost all he played with. We have some train tracks, of course, and several different trains. While my favorite is "Percy" (a name I suggested, but Jude rejected, before J.P. was born), he loves the caboose, probably because he can push a button and it plays music. On many occasions, while I strolled him down to Bongo Java for coffee, he sat contentedly in the stroller, caboose in hand, music playing. Yes, the same song, over and over again. I can hear it right now and it makes me smile.
Favorite places for J.P? Several. The children's book section at Davis Kidd Booksellers at the Green Hills Mall, Bongo Java (he is fascinated by the barristas making coffee drinks), the Nashville Zoo, the Green Hills Mall (good for walking and lots to look at), Frothy Monkey (where he can run up and down the wheelchair ramp), Ayden Elliott's house (swingset outside and play kitchen inside) and Sevier and Centennial Parks.
Just like his old man, my son seems to love music. In the car, he points at the stereo and says, "Mu! Mu!" In the kitchen, he points at the ipod and says the same thing. I could probably mark time the past year just by thinking about all of the different music he's been into, then quickly out of. He's emphatic about what he wants to hear on the ipod. Early part of the year, Barenaked Ladies - "Snacktime" and Rilo Kiley - "Under the Blacklight." Middle of the year, Caspar Babypants - "More Please," last part of the year and lately, Lisa Loeb - "Catch the Moon" and Johnettte Dowling - "The Second Line." Most recently and to my delight, J.P. has insisted on listening to Neil Young - "Dreamin' Man Live '92," one of my favorite albums my one of my all time favorite artists. If he continues to dig Neil Young, we're going to get along just fine.
Jude and I took J.P. to his first hockey game. Playing with the seats was a lot of fun - bouncing them up and down. He particularly enjoyed watching the zambonis in between periods. The first time the Predators scored a goal, however, he was so startled he literally jumped off the ground when the horn sounded.
Books, books and more books. The kid loves to be read to, which is fantastic. I love to read and I think he's going to love it, too. As with the music, he'll insist on a book or two for a few days, then be on to something else. The "Good Night New York," etc. books are almost always a hit when I'm reading to him. He loves "Where the Wild Things Are" and "In the Night Kitchen," both by Maurice Sendak. For some reason, a regular for him, too, is a Kwanzaa book Jude's brother, James, got him (and me) as a joke. The Dr. Seuss books are a hit, too, although they're so nonsensical and long, it pains me to read them to him, at times, especially when he wants to hear a book two or three times in a row.
He had his first popsicle, from Las Paletas, on a late spring afternoon while Jude and I walked with him through Sevier Park.
Food, of course, has been a huuuge change in the past year. In the mornings, it's yogurt, toast or pancakes, cheerios or kix, kiwi or strawberries and bacon. No eggs of any sort on his tray or anywhere near him. Milk to drink, of course. Lunch is deli meat, normally, fruit and vegetables (green beans, corn, etc.). Dinner is ground beef, ground turkey, grilled cheese, fish sticks (a favorite) vegetables, pasta (he loves macaroni and cheese), fruit, etc. Milk, milk and more milk. Crackers, potato chips and especially gold fish crackers are big for snacks.
J.P. knows his colors, though he won't say them. He can, if you ask, go into the kitchen and pick out a blue (or red, purple, etc.) straw and bring it to you. He comprehends what we're saying pretty well. He'll say "Da da, Mama, Ma (grandma), and Pa (grandpa)." More words and sentences are coming, soon, I think. Just last night, after I said to him, "let's go get ready for bed, big guy," he looked at me and said, "big ga." The rest of the night and all today, he kept saying "hey, big ga" and "hey maaaa (man)." Really funny stuff.
He caught a couple of colds or sinus infections, though nothing serious, thankfully. Still, it was a little scary, at night, when he coughed a lot.
He also learned to head butt Jude (or me) when he's told no. As a result, he's quickly learning about "time out," as we try to break him of the head butting habit. With two headstrong, stubborn parents, that may be a tough one.
I could go on and on and on about all the firsts for J.P. in year number two. So many memories. Suffice to say I'm blessed, truly blessed to have spend the past two years with my son and my wife.
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