rice: the new alternative energy source!

For those of you who have valiantly read your way through this blog, welcome to post #100! For the newbies, welcome. We wish you luck and possibly a pot of strong coffee.

Having a baby means that the outside world insists on interacting with me. When the Eldest was little, the grandmothers at the grocery store would tell me he was too hot, too cold, hungry or (most usefully) upset. The babes is a similar target: people are drawn to his red curls, and once hooked, are fascinated by the challenge of getting a smile out of Mr. Sometimes-Sobersides. The young rajah considers his audience and then chooses whether to bestow upon them a smile, a dimple, or most recently, a little tentative hand-wave.

With all of this attention, however, come also acts of kindness. The extremely pierced and tattooed man who held the door for us at the grocery store (our co-op doesn't have electric doors, alas), and then explained his tattooes to a curious Eldest. The four semi-toothless gentlemen in the park this morning, who joked with me about the babes' name, and whether it is better to do unto others as you'd have done unto you...or to do unto others before they do unto you. They were gifted with a pair of hand-waves hello and goodbye, but no smile. Or the lovely man at the Starbucks where Rt 28 meets Rt 16, who saw the Eldest being stubborn and almost - almost hitting me (must...hit...mummy....must...not..hit...mummy) and then nearly run out the door. He comped my iced coffee, the lovely man, when I could clearly pay for it. He knew the power of a stranger's unexpected kindness, and he wielded it wisely. (He also knew the power of a friendly stranger's warning to a recalcitrant boy, but that's another story.)

The babes has been blooming under this public notice, albeit in his own way: quietly, and revealing it upon his own terms. Occasionally, he springs his achievements upon me in a dizzying fashion, as he did this past Wednesday. During a playdate, he rose from sitting to standing, sans support. He stood independantly and took a step or two. He mimicked his brother's sounds - fairly accurately, too, producing a reasonable version of 'hello' and something else that escapes me just now. And he mimicked the other child by waving goodbye and blowing a kiss to our guests. All firsts, the multitude of which left the Eldest and I dancing with delight. Must be all of that rice we're feeding him...

And lest you think that the only intriguing acts around here are performed by the under-three foot crowd (no, I'm not discussing that. Go find another blog for that sort of thing, my family reads this one), the Eldest is currently fascinated by a hand loom, and is demonstrating suprising focus as a weaver. Can't quite sit still for a whole meal, but he'll spend an hour working the shuttle over, under, over, under...

Shabbat shalom, all. May your weekends be filled with unexpected kindnesses and achievements.