Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The next Justin Bieber

Although it hurts my heart a little that he still doesn't speak much or enjoy books, Fletcher is in a constant state of learning and growing that brightens my life. There's at least one moment out of every day that I think, This is what I'm going to miss when he's grown up.

He dances now – bobbing his head to the beat, jumping up and down, swinging his arms, twirling in circles. He'll try to imitate what he sees me doing or what he sees in a movie, clapping when we clap and spinning when we spin. In the bathtub, he break dances on his butt.

I have never experienced someone with the energy that he has. He puts it to good use. After a great deal of practice, he is one amazing jumper. He crouches low, puts his arms into it, and gets air as both feet lift off. This week, he went back and forth jumping the foot of space between a couch and a mattress in the basement, getting red in the face and out of breath but having too much fun to stop.

He sings too. This fact has changed how I feel about his apathy toward using words. After all, words are just one tiny way in a vast world of ways to communicate. (We rarely have trouble knowing what he's "saying.") I know when he likes a song by the singing sounds he makes – he doesn't change pitch a whole lot. Of course, it's cute that he can't carry a tune. And the visible joy he gets from joining the song make me wonder... Dancing? Singing? Could he be the next Justin Bieber?

He had a lot of energy last night and didn't wind down until after 11 pm. Then at 4 am, his screaming woke me. Expecting a foot or arm to be stuck between crib bars, I rolled out of bed to check on him. He wasn't stuck. He immediately stood up though, grabbing his blankets, and said, "Up." I expected to hold him until he calmed and then set him back in the crib. He had other ideas. He pointed to the door, so I walked to the door.  He pointed to the stairs, so I walked there too. "Down," he said clearly.

So I'm not worried by his disinterest in words. He'll say them if it gets him something he desperately wants. He says "no" if anything at all doesn't meet his approval. He says "eat" if it makes a critter in an ipod game eat the food on the screen. A handful of times, he's said "help" and "open" and made animal and car noises.

For now, he dances his happiness, sings his joy, screams his anger, and giggles his mirth. He pulls and points and looks us straight in the eyes before he kisses us. That's the only I love you I need.

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