Wednesday, August 08, 2007
A Season For Every Activity Under the Heavens, Even Weaning
My little Elias... you are anything but "little". You had your 15-month check-up yesterday with your doctor and you are certainly healthy. Oh, and I lied, you are not 30 pounds, you are a mere 28 plus pounds. You are still taller than 97 out of 100 little boys your age and weigh more too.
Dr. Post says that you are really flying through those developmental milestones (using your spoon and fork like a proper young lad should, using several words, enjoying books, saying "please" and "thank you" at appropriate times, imitating animals, trying to make us all laugh until we fall down with your new "face", etc...) and that you have a temperament to match.
And no, you're not stacking blocks. I laughed when Dr. Post asked and just said that you didn't, couldn't, didn't want to, whatever. Just like I had to laugh when our old pediatrician used to ask me if your brother and sister could stack wooden blocks and how many. It was the same answer then as it is now. It must be a Houle family trait- absence of the toddler-block-stacking-ability gene.
You are obsessed with BOOKS. You bring them to your Daddy and I over and over and over again. Sometimes you sit for a page or two, sometimes the entire book. Sometimes we find you just sitting and reading, alone. Precious. You have taken to bringing us "big kid books" too... The Story of Ferdinand, Little Bear and such. You have also torn your share of library books (a test of my patience).
And now for the hard part. Weaning. I think it is time that this aspect of our wonderful and nurturing relationship come to the end of the road now. Nursing. It has become another obsession of yours. I feel as if you are a newborn again. Nursing during the night. Nursing at the library as your feet dangle down to past my knees. Nursing while we are trying to take a dip in a friend's pool to cool down. Clawing at me. Practically tearing my shirt off. And let's not forget the tantrums that follow if I am to ever deny you of your wish. I think it's best for both of us. It's time for you to be able to sit close to Mommy and be able to just sit, play pat-a-cake or read a story without you doing your patent spin, duck and jaw-opening in an effort to score some of your favorite cuisine.
I figure after 48 months of cumulative time spent nursing my three children I am entitled to the right to burn my nursing bras and easy-access tank tops, if not forever, for a very long, long time.