James at 23 months: Conducts Firebird with rapt concentration as he hits the beats and sways
dramatically to the music. Once it’s over he pauses, turns to me, and states
unblinkingly, “Do aDAIN.”
Owen at 23 months: Takes the cushion off of the chair,
turning it into his own personal trampoline, bouncing with a ridiculous smile
on his face, left hand clutching his prized green ball, as Short Ride in a Fast Machine plays in the background. Once it’s
over he keeps jumping, shouting, “Moe! MOE! I wan’ MOE!!!!”
James at 23 months: Tries putting his feet on the pedals of
his trike once, then quickly gives up and makes his parents push him around for
the next year.
Owen at 23 months: Tries putting his feet on the pedals of
his trike once, and persists to the exclusion of any help. Pushes his parents’
hands away so he can keep practicing, unless he tips over and gets stuck under
the wheels. Whenever he manages to get somewhere (usually when aimed downhill)
he shouts “yaaaaayyyyy!!!!”
James at 23 months: Sits and listens to books for,
literally, hours if you’d let him. Wants to read the original Curious George books
and knows and says his letters and colors.
Owen at 23 months: Will “sit” for a book or two, but usually
only if they involve pop-ups or animal sounds. Gets bored with any kind of real
story book unless it’s less than two minutes long or Elephant and Piggie. If
you show him letters he invariably responds “Eeeeee!!!!” and if you ask him what
color it’s “Geeeeen!!!!” Always with exclamation points.
James at 23 months: Will give an obligatory hug at bedtime,
but rarely initiates physical affection for humans. Needs a ginky, George, and
Steven to go to sleep.
Owen at 23 months: Hugs. Hugs
for Mommy, hugs for Daddy, hugs for ALL of the babies. Hugs to the greeters at
church and the nursery workers. No wonder this kid gets sick more than his
older brother. Requires nothing but his own two fingers and an earlobe to
sleep.
Here’s a really horrible thing. I know I’ve read a couple of books between A Prayer for Owen Meany and Water
for Elephants. But I can’t remember, and I apparently can’t look it up on
my online library account. Sniff. If I can come up with one or more I’ll be
sure to insert. Roy and I have been doing a lot of crosswords at night…but
STILL. I know I’m missing a couple…
Book 57: A Prayer for
Owen Meany. The longest read of 2016 so far. A curious tale about a
modern-day Messiah veiled in humor, irony, and tragedy. I laughed at times and
other times I kept on keeping on. Owen Meany is quite the literary character, I
will say that. This is one of those books that I guess I’m glad I finished, but
would probably be much more interesting as a book-club read, where there could
be discussion and analysis following.
Book 58: Boy Erased:
A memoir of a young man, raised in a Missionary Baptist home, who comes out to
his family and is sent to “ex gay therapy.” I could probably write an entire
blog about this book if I wanted to be controversial, but suffice it to say, he
did not have a good experience and ended up choosing to embrace the homosexual
lifestyle. Knowing this before I even turned the first page I assumed the
critiques of the Christian community would be scathing, and they were. But even
if you read past the obvious anger and mistrust of the author towards
Christianity, it would appear that this young man was, indeed, abused, misled,
and unloved by those who were claiming “healing through Christ.” Disturbing at
a number of levels.
Book 59: The Guernsey
Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. The most delightful read of 2016 thus
far. I passed it onto Roy immediately and highly recommend, particularly if you
love historical fiction that involves letter-writing, British humor, and
whimsy. (IE, all of the people who read this blog.)
