Search is crawling. I’d write more about his adventures – but I’ve got to go chase him down…
Tag Archives: crawling
Tiny Techies
Hide the toaster.
Given my proclivity for toast flambe (topped with tiny melted marshmallows) and Search’s intense analytical investigative skills, small appliances don’t have great odds for remaining intact in our house.
His personality is beginning to show through as the type who will revel in divesting objects of their inner bits. Search will sit among his toys – after dragging them all toward him – surrounding himself with his favorites. (Proud Mommy moment: the muppets favorite toy is their soft book, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”)
With great aplomb, he’ll pick one up and turn it around and around in his hands – investigating every angle. Then, seemingly without warning, he’ll fling it aside.
“Done with that one!”
And as we continue to work on mobility, Search is displaying the true meaning of being a child born in 2010. What is the only object that intrigues Search enough to immediately prop himself up on hands and knees and, with a look of intense determination, propel himself forward (even if it’s not exactly “crawling” yet)? The iPhone.
Hold the sexy smart phone out in front of him and Search immediately starts to motivate himself. Focused on all-fours, he’ll begin to rock back and forth. He’ll lunge forward, face plant, pull himself slightly forward in a twist and roll movement and army crawl a few inches. Then he’ll collapse onto the ground, give his thumb several powerful sucks and repeat the entire process.
Every time he propelled himself forward within reach of the glowing gizmo. Every. Time. Jon observed, “Now THAT is true intent and determination.” Even the muppet’s Caterpillar book doesn’t illicit such an intrigued reaction.
“Awww, he wants to talk on the phone,” cooed GrammaJ (who thinks everything her “cutiepies” do is adorable and brilliant – I think that’s rule No. 1 in the grandparents handbook). Talking/chewing – simply semantics, right?
Destroy is the muppet spending his days chattering away. While his conversations don’t often make much more sense than some of GrampaStavo’s Englalian language creations, he’s clearly communicating. “Ai!” he’ll squeal when someone walks into a room.
He might actually be saying “hi.” The greeting is always followed by his trademark infectious grin.
Today we were working on sitting – Destroy is getting quite good at remaining upright. Holding his beloved Caterpillar book, he looked up. “Ai!” Then he fell straight backwards with a cry of, “Ai!”
Thunk.
He hit the carpeting, head on the ground and legs sticking straight up in the air – his body stubbornly remaining in the (vertically) seated position. The smile never wavered.
“Hi” and “Goodbye.”
I Think I Can…I Think I Can…
In March: It’s a New Generation – One with Many Ultrasounds “Baby B is a bit more . . . rambunctious. I’m pretty sure I saw him punch Baby A at one point. It’s actually been quite difficult to get a still photo of Baby B. Every time the camera tries to freeze frame, for something like a medical measurement, Baby B thinks it’s hilarious to jerk and move away as quickly as possible. We also think he’s had the hiccups several times. Flailing about, clearly warming up for as many 90-foot sprints as possible, Baby B is clearly the frontrunner in the mischievous category.”
In April: Ain’t that a Kick in the Head “Earlier in the week, Jon had suggested he get some games to keep us all occupied. Baby B apparently took this to heart. Based on his circumstances, Hide-n-Seek was the game of choice. The nurse and I could hear his heartbeat faintly in the background. The nurse continued to move the puck around on my stomach trying to track Baby B down. But B is very good at Hide-n-Seek. He was winning even though the nurse had the sound wave monitoring machine advantage.”
Four hours after his birth last May, Search’s primary nurse June, informed me he was refusing to stay swaddled in his bunting – despite the wires encompassing his little body. Throughout his NICU stay, he was only happy once he’d kicked his little feet out. By two weeks old, he was scooting around his isolette and trying to push himself up.
Now that he’s a big giant boy, he’s attempting to mobilize in earnest.
He has spent the past several mornings scooting around the living room. Rolling over from back to tummy is a piece of cake; lifting his head up to look around in a half push-up position takes him very little effort.
Yesterday, Search noticed his soft discovery block about three feet in front of his playmat. He reached out toward it, but it was just out of range. You could see the wheels turning in his head.
“I want that block. That block is over there. I am over here.” He reached forward again – nope, still an arm’s length away. “I want to be over there. That is where the block is. I want that block.”
With a laser-like focus on the big blue block, he scrunched his little legs up underneath him. Step one. He paused, diligently trying to problem solve the situation. The lightbulb went on! He shoved with his arms. And scooted backwards. He repeated this scenario two or three more times. Each time moving farther away from the desired block.
At this point, Search was starting to get frustrated. He collapsed his head to the floor – tushy still pointing skyward.
Search is a voracious thumb-sucker. It may be for self-soothing, it may be his magic feather, or it may be his superpower recharger. He’d flung his head onto the carpet and was furiously sucking his thumb. Thumb firmly ensconced and drool soaking the carpet, his lower lip was just about to jut out in the quiver that precedes the wail, when he noticed the two smaller blocks in the set in his line of vision, just to his left.
He lifted his head slightly, peering at these blocks, and then turned his head to look back at the big blue block. He put both hands on the floor and shoved himself finally forward – inchworming over to the blocks. He was very pleased with himself.
Search has discovered he can move. It’s still a bit wonky. He can’t quite crawl yet. But he’s mastered the art of pulling his legs up under himself, inchworming a few inches and then rolling to the side. He’ll be fully mobile in the very near future.
This morning, he attempted a full tour of our living room. Then he passed out for his morning catnap – bottom still straight up. I took those few moments of solitude to order babyproofing items…
