blogging the scraps

Bits and tidbits floating around in my head on mental scraps of paper.

In the last week, Jonah has added a whole new expressive sound to his repertoire:

“Ohh-oh?”

He says it in a musical down-up melody. Usually when he’s dropped something. How adorable is that? SO adorable.

* * *

Last night I tried to give him a bottle before bed rather than nursing him into a blackout, in the hope that this might help him sleep better — the whole put him down drowsy but still awake thing.

Wellll… he cried, shrieked, screamed at heretofore unapproached decible levels. I went in after 10 minutes of fist clenching and teeth gritting (i.e. waiting) and there he was, STANDING in the crib. This is a milestone too. He was near impossible to calm. Even after rocking and nursing. He. Just. Didn’t. Want. To. Sleep.

45 minutes of that. Scott took turns too. It wasn’t pretty.

He woke up again at 11, crying. But a little cuddling got him back down.

And then he slept till 6.

!!!

And the angels and I wept with joy. Hallelujah.

* * *

Jonah likes Mexican folk art. Folk art in general really gets him going, but Mexican in particular.

As I may have written previously, there was an antique Italian marionette at my mother’s house that he’d have extensive conversations with. He’d demand to be held in front of her and then they’d talk and laugh, and talk some more. If you tried to take him away again, he’d scream.

Saturday night, after the day at the organic farm, we stopped for dinner at one of our favorite local organic Mexican restaurants on the way home. There were painted animal masks on the walls. Jonah was entranced. One in particular caught his fancy and they had an extensive conversation.

Outside the restaurant, a Oaxacan artist who may or may not have painted those masks had a huge table set up with wooden animal figurines that he was painting RIGHT THERE, in deep, rich, berry-hued, whimsical patterns.

We had to buy one of course. A purple rabbit? cat? jackrabbit? jackalope? with splotches of gold-rimmed starry universe all over his body. We call him Jonah’s rabbit god. Jonah held it, spoke with it, and it was good.

Yesterday at the library, they had an ofrenda — an altar covered in a bright yellow table cloth, strung with painted-skulls twinkle lights, dotted with citrusy tissue paper flowers, and topped with a tin-framed portrait of Frida Kahlo.

It was near impossible to tear him away.

* * *

The funny thing about the brand of dry cat food that Bambino favors is that it is nearly the exact shape and size of Trader Joe’s O’s. Needless to say, yesterday, when I set Jonah down on the kitchen floor so that he could watch his adored animal friend dine… I must have glanced away for a second? Suddenly, I see Jonah’s little jaw working, and a not-so-happy look on his face.

I fish out the brown o. That didn’t taste good, did it? I ask him. He shakes his head. No.

Not that he learned his lesson or anything. I had to remove him from proximity lest he snatch another from the bowl.

He’s an optimist?

That one blew, but the next one surely will be tasty!