Co-mmunication

"Mama blue stripe shirt on."

"Uh-oh rabbit under table eat blueberry."

"Bubba Mike run push big stroller."

"Brown white dog walk downhill man."

"Airplane up sky clouds move."

"Gunner Lena upstairs sleep bed."


Django can be shy, and wary, out in the world at large, but when he's not -- either not feeling that way, or not out in the world at large -- he is a non-stop narrator. You wanna know what's going on? You don't even have to ask. He'll just tell you.

It's great, and I mean, REALLY great to have moved beyond some of the single-subject perseverating. In fact, if I never hear Django say "garage door" again, I will not complain. I have heard those two words more than enough for one lifetime. But the thing I quickly realized about this new level of communication is that it requires a whole new level of response.

Somehow it just doesn't work the same to say, "You're right! That's exactly what that is," in response to "Django up chair type Mama computer," or "Django eat vitamin candy now." It's also a little bit embarrassing when he starts making certain requests of anyone who walks in the house, like, "Andi turn on Elmo TV, Cookie Monster TV. Andi on Ernie TV please."

Django already loves to talk about pitos (our word for penises) and poop. And he's quick to repeat for you all the sentences he's heard that start with the word "No." But here's his newest line, the one he used all morning long, following me around, intermittently hugging whatever part of me he could reach. The one that will no doubt be my undoing on more than one future occasion...

"Django love Mama."

(*sigh*)

Ahhhhh, Summer...?

Yesterday was the first official day of summer vacation. We went to the cafe for breakfast, the YMCA for exercise, the playground for fun, the bed for a nap, the front sidewalk to wash the car (with kitchen sponges) -- and then I looked at my watch. Only 2p...Working was MUCH easier.

I spent my last workday twiddling my thumbs, though. Tedra had done so much to pack-up the classroom I had barely 2 hours worth of honest work to do, and yet 6 hours in which to pretend to do it. I tried to go above and beyond, but made it to about adequate. Then I fantasized about going shopping for new clothes as a lunch "break," but ended up going home for a shower and a bowl of cold beets instead. The whole time I felt a little like a was playing hooky and a lot like I'd forgotten what it was like to be alone...and duty-free.

Django's my anchor, and my hot air balloon. He's a chore, and an adventure. A comfort, and a challenge. A hoot, and a hassle. A thrill, and a bore. He's everything I wanted, and more than I expected. Every day I'm excited to greet him in the morning -- okay, usually about an hour after he's excited to greet me -- and to see/hear what new thing he'll be into this day. But I've got a twitch, a niggle, a yellow light blinking at me from somewhere deep down. A warning, I think. The ghost of single-parenthood, perhaps (especially my kind.) He's still just a baby now, but I know he's not supposed to be the center of my universe forever. Yet, I'm already having trouble with idea of letting go. Or, maybe just finding the right ways to hold on.

Two Boys with New Toys