Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Baby Puberty


Acne...dandruff...growth spurts...angst.... Yes, Arlo's been going through some "transitions" lately. One can't help but think that all of this is some kind of preparation for his teenage years -- that with every angry cry, some future door is slamming, sending some future "do not enter" sign flying in our faces. 


Actually, neither Mark nor I were your typical rebellious teenager -- while I was saving up my hard-earned wages from my job at Golden Fish 'n Chips to buy back my freedom from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Book Club (an enslavement entered into in order to obtain a free pewter Excalibur letter opener), Mark was doing jazz hands, painting murals, and eating ferns in the backwoods of Wisconsin (Mark, I apologize if this isn't exactly accurate, but it's how I imagine you then, for better or worse). 


We were the type of teenagers who avoided confrontation so that we could exist peacefully in our worlds and do what we liked to do, whether that be collecting Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves paraphernalia or listening to forties radio shows. We were kids whose parents would notice when we were upset and then we would talk to them about our problems. 


So I can't help but wonder, if Arlo ends up being a holy terror of a teenager, will we have a clue? And for that matter, do we have a clue now? What I hope more than anything is that we will have a relationship with Arlo that is like the relationship we had with our parents -- one where we can always talk about things.  


Which brings me back to the current version of Arlo -- our adorable adolescent baby -- and our current efforts to understand what he's trying to tell us with his different cries, his face scrunches, his flailing limbs, his dolphin sounds. So often we get it wrong, I know, and it's frustrating for him, no doubt. But on those rare occasions when we get it right -- when he yawns and we put him to bed and he falls asleep (seems obvious right? Hah!) -- it feels awesome. It feels like the beginning of something -- a communication. A connection.






1 comment:

  1. That knowing smile (two pictures up) tells me Arlo knows he has wrapped his parentals around his little fingers. He just does not yet have the words to whisper that little secret into someone's ear. But eyes are the mirror of the soul and they say enough -- I AM HAPPY !
    Dad

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