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Dear Ezra: Month Nine

  • Tagged The kids, The letters
  • Commenters Anne

Dear Ezra,

You’ve finally at the age where the time we’ve known you is longer than the time we only knew of you. Nine months we waited while you gestated in Mom’s tummy, both of us with our own secret guesses of what you looked like. Now, of course, it hardly seems possible that you could look any other way.

This month’s big achievement was the way you proved yourself to be a brave and mature traveler. You traveled on no fewer than five flights as an eight-month-old, and on each one you were a peaceful, happy, patient traveler — more than can be said about some of your fellow passengers. We weren’t sure how you would put up with that much traveling, though of course we had high expections. As Mom has already pointed out, you did not disappoint.

We were warned, as all new parents are, that traveling with a baby can be taxing and tiring. What people never told us were that there are ample benefits too. You are a calming presence, buddy. For the tired service worker who’s fed up with being jerks all day, a little smile from you can instantly put her in a good mood. For a passenger who’s been waiting in line, or on the tarmac, for hours, seeing you happy and giggling can calm their nerves. Best of all, for your parents, every memory made is even more meaningful thanks to your presence in it.

After the three flights that took us to and from Puerto Rico (sand, sun) and West Palm Beach (grandpa, uncles), you got a couple weeks or so at home and then you were off again to SXSW in Austin (geeks, BBQ). You should know that there’s no pressure to follow me into a nerdy line of work. Your future is open, and we will love you no matter what you choose, as long as it’s not a PC. But I’m not above putting the pressure on early, and my hope is that a few days partying with the smart folks at SXSW year after year will subconsciously tilt the scale in that direction. I’m hoping to step it up next year and get you featured on a panel. (Tentative title: “My Baby Is Cuter Than Your Website.”)

Meanwhile, your bag of tricks continues to grow. Or rather, the bag stays the same size but the tricks inside change. A month ago, it was your favorite thing to stand up straight while I held you by your calves. Now, not so much. You’re over it. Now you love nothing more than to pull yourself up every vertical surface, whether it’s a chair, the table, the wall, or your recumbent daddy. Your favorite activity is to play Dishwasher Inspector. The moment that door flips down, you drop whatever you’re doing and scuttle over, pull yourself up, and attempt to help load it up.

You continue to impress in the hair department. By most standards, you’re well past due for a trim. Your hair now covers both ears, and will often curl up into a kind of faux payos. But we have our own standards — we can’t bring ourselves to do it. It’s just too adorable; it’d be like cutting Samson’s hair. (Did you know? Samson lost his power because he was less cute with a shorter trim. Fact.)

With the warm weather coming, I’m hopeful that this month we’ll finally be able to head back to the park for swinging and playing, and you’ll start to make some more friends in the neighborhood. Mom and I are excited to be able to show you off, and I’m sure you’re anxious to demonstrate all your big boy tricks. Just remember to share, and play nice, and be tolerant of other people’s attitudes and opinions. Even if they’re PC users.

Love,
Pops

1 Comments

Anne

Mar 28 / 21:38
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