not so still lifes

I’m loading up the car for the day, babe in arms. Load bag of clothes to return to the Gap, Tuffo blanket in case we sit in grassy park, bag of jeans (two pair) that need tailoring into the trunk, diaper bag on floor of back seat.

I’ve left the driver’s side rear door open, gone back up the dirt hill to sidewalk on our steep street to get the car seat. Behind me I hear a bang-snap. I turn, scream-startle.

A man is getting out of a shiny red Prius which has stopped in the middle of the street. Pieces of his passenger-side rear-view mirror are strewn about.

I step down to the street, inspect my car door. No damage. I’m shaking with adrenaline.

We proceed to have a very strange conversation wherein he seems to chastise me for leaving my door open and I apologize profusely and he picks up the piece of painted plastic but doesn’t seem to notice that his whole mirror is gone, the remains of the outer casing hanging down by a wire. His car is brand new. He is older, white, silver-haired, well-heeled. He keeps saying, as long as the baby is okay. I wonder if he knew we weren’t in the street when he hit the car. I wonder whose fault this would be. I am always parked next to this steep hill. It’s very difficult to get into the car on that side. I shouldn’t be standing in the street, though. I shouldn’t have left the door open and walked away? He says “Frankly,” and then never finishes that sentence. I apologize again. He says, “I thought I’d cleared that door.” He says, “You live here?” I say “Yes.” He gets back in his car, drives away, Indian music blaring.

* * *

Taking note: Today Jonah said the word “ball” while looking at a ball. It seemed clear and pointed. “Ball” was my first word. Nice that it’s in his early rotation as well. He’s still got “ca” going, for cats, as well as dogs and birds. He also seems clear that “boom” is the sound to make when banging on a pot. It’s also the sound the big hungry bear makes. (I’m pretty sure that’s where he learned it.)

* * *

In L.A., my mother gave us a fabuu little book called Where Is Baby’s Belly Button?

Jonah made my sister read it to him four times in a row. Today when I read it with him, he knew exactly how to grab and raise the various flaps in response to each question. He seemed quite pleased with himself. Dare I say delighted?

Later in the day, he sat on my lap and we played “Where is Mama’s belly button?” and “Where is Jonah’s belly button?” He actually pulled up my shirt, repeatedly, and giggling. Okay, that sounds weird, but if you have a nursing baby, you’re used to it. Anyway, I was amazed.