Writing for Beans

Fire  burn, and caldron bubble.

That's a phrase I've been teaching the Little Man.  I figure, why not start with the good stuff.

Actually, he's got a part of that down.   Bubble.   Sort of.   You see part of the bedtime routine is to take a bath, and he just loves the water.   A month or so ago (perhaps longer, my sense of the passage of days is a bit off kilter recently) my wife picked up a bottle of bubble bath, which also came with one of those wands so that you can blow bubbles.  We added that to the bath routine, and recently, when its time to get into the bath, he's been saying "babum".   Which is his version of asking for the bubbles.   It's quite distinct and repeated often, so it's not just a chance thing, it's quite intentional.  And it's used in context.  IE, if I bring out the bottle of bubbles, he'll say it.  Or if I say the word "bubbles" he'll say it back to me.

Tonight, as I was blowing bubbles at him, I noticed that he was trying to scoop them up off the surface of the bath, and eat them.  I find that kind of surprising, since the other day, I tried to make a real "bubble bath" with lots of suds, and he ended up with an accidental mouthful of bubbles, and that ended the bath right quick.  So shock beyond shock, tonight, he was trying to eat the bubbles.

I don't know when the last time you might have blown bubbles, with a simple wand.   There is something unabashedly fun about the experience.  Something wondrous, even  now at my age, watching the bubbles flow out of the wand and twirl off into the wind of my breath.   Depending on the mix of water and soap, I have nights where I can blow enormous bubbles that could encompass a grapefruit, other times I can only produce small ping-pong sized bubbles at best.   I've watched bubbles bounce off the surface of the bath once, twice, before settling on the surface on the third contact.  I watched bubbles collide in mid-air and form radical shapes that remind me of molecule diagrams from college chemistry.  Sometimes the collision bursts both bubbles.  Sometimes they bounce off each other, sending each on a complete new trajectory.  Most just land on the surface of the water, either to burst or slowly, collect into little islands.  When enough mass together it gives the whole of it a honeycomb appearance.   That rarely lasts long, because the Little Man considers it his duty to disrupt those with fierce intensity.   I alternate between the two distinct challenges of seeing how many bubbles I can flood the air with on a single dip of the soap, with trying to see how large a bubble I can manage without bursting it.    Both, made more challenging by the happy child waiting to burst that large bubble, or make me laugh so that I lose my breath mid-stream.

If it's been a long time since you've done so, go pick up a small jar at the local dollar shop (or equivalent) and go spend some time blowing bubbles.   Spring is finally in full swing; the weather is pleasant enough so that it's neither freezing cold, nor sweltering hot.   (At least here in New Jersey, your mileage may vary.)  Give yourself even just half an hour to recapture one tiny piece of youth that might have stolen away as you grew older and let the responsibilities pile up so.  Take it back, and revel in watching a shiny, floating, swirling sphere that glints with a flash of captured rainbow.  Watch them dance on the wind, for as long as they can before they burst.  Set aside your cares for a while, as you have some old, simple, fun.

Today, as my wife dashed into a store to do a few quick returns, I drove around the parking lot with the Little Man strapped in. Sometimes its just easier that way, as he gets very frustrated going in and out of the car seat. In any case, I was slowly drifting through an empty part of the parking lot--keeping the car moving with the hope that I might lull him into taking a nap--I glanced up at the rear-view. Suddenly I noticed two little fists pop up into range. Then they dropped back down and I caught a giggle. Curious, I slowed the car to a crawl and watched further.

A year ago today, my son was born.   Happy Birthday Little Man!   We had a party for him this past Sunday, and he was kind of overwhelmed.

Here's a few pictures of his birthday cakes.  My wife made both cakes, one just for the Little Man, and another for all the guests.  She got a little help on the three houses from our old roommate. 

So last night, as the Little Man was taking a bath, I decided that I needed to test him.  It's a rather compulsive thing I do, I try to challenge him randomly.  I have no idea if I'm building character, or ticking him off.  But, you know, as much as he's learning how to be a person, well, I'm learning the whole how to be a father thing.  Which is rather different from the being an uncle game.  I think I've got that one down by now.  And if any of you nephews or nieces say otherwise....no Xmas presents for you!  

Now where was I?  Oh yes, the Little Man.   So he's got lots of toys for splashing around in the tub.  I was going over what each item is called.  One is a rubber duck.  (actually, it's a Pirate, duck)  For some reason I decided to test if he knew which one was the duck.   So I held up the frog and the duck, and I asked him, which one was the duck?

He reached for the duck.

Now, that's a straight up fifty-fifty chance.  So I switch which critter is in which hand, and I ask him again.  He grabs the right one again.   I repeat it about five or six more times, and he gets it right.  Doesn't matter which hand.  Then I compare it to a boat.  He gets it right.  Then a fish.   Then the dolphin.   I am, as you can imagine, at this point kind of stunned, because I wasn't expecting him to get it.  I mean, this was the first time.  Then comes the gator.  And he gets it wrong.  I'm a bit disappointed, because he was doing so well up to that moment.  I try it again.  He still gets it wrong.  I go back and test the other stuff again.  Now he gets it mostly right again, with occasional, grabbing of the wrong one.  But still, well over 85% correct. 

This evening, I ran it again, and he did well.  This time, he even got it right when I brought out the gator.  What I have yet to determine, is: does he actually know which one is the duck?  (I think so, as he seems to try to say the word.)  Or, is he just going for which toy is most attractive to him?  Either way, I'm impressed.  Mostly because he puts up with his father.

 

I really don't know why I do this.  But when I'm changing the Little Man's diaper in the middle of the night, and its dark, because I'm trying to keep him from waking up too much.  I close my eyes while I change it.   I have no idea why.  It doesn't make much difference, since we've got black out curtains, and the only light in the room is the glow of a few clocks.   But I do this pretty often.  

I wouldn't even think of trying that in the middle of the day.  In the middle of the night, doesn't seem to be a problem.

Along with several new teeth, my son has recently developed a fantastic maniacal laugh.  Truly an evil, world dominating, laugh.  It seems I will have to make certain to train him properly, and make sure he understands the common pitfalls of being an evil overlord.  Thankfully, there are many movies I can use as object lessons in what not to do, as well as some rather helpful lists on the web.

What?  You thought I'd steer him away from this path? Certainly not.  All I ask is a nice Caribbean island retreat to retire to while he rules the world with an iron fist.  I wonder what the tuition is for evil boarding schools...
 

This evening, the Little Man began to crawl.  He's been on the cusp for a few weeks now, almost, but not quite getting it.  He made a few tentative steps, but we weren't sure.   Once the Lovely Wife's mother got on the speaker phone to sing a tune and he started crawling like a champ to get to the receiver.  He did it a number of times in a row, so it sure wasn't a fluke.   Pretty amazing that we both happened to be here right when it happened!

Of course now, it's going to be even harder to ride herd on him and the Fearless Mop.  They've already managed to have their first traffic accident.   The Little Man has decided he needs to try that tasty item that the Mop is chewing on.  The Mop hasn't yet figured out to move away, but has decided to defend his possession by licking hands and face as rapidly as possible, causing the Little Man to recoil away from the assault.  However, I'm rather certain the Little Man will develop immunity to this type of attack soon.  If the Mop doesn't learn to retreat, I expect further conflicts to develop.

Okay, maybe not big teeth.  The little man's first tooth has broken on through.  And it hurts.  Me.  When he bites down hard.
Yeah, okay, probably shouldn't be sticking my hand in there all that much, but, you know, I kept trying to get a look at it and all.

The dog managed to get out yesterday.  Thankfully, the neighbor was home, and saw him out.  Her niece and nephew tried to corral him back into the house, but he just kept barking at them and running away.  Finally, they walked away, and, tired from running around (and probably thirsty as well) he ran back inside to find a drink, and they ran over and shut the door.   

Meanwhile, I had headed home in a rush, and was almost home when my neighbor got hold of me to let me know they got him back in the house.  What I hadn't realized was that I had left my current story at work.   Sure I could have printed it out again, but it would mean having to ignore the edits I previously worked out.   I suppose I could have (and should have) started on a different section of the story, and worked on that.  But I prefer to work through the story from front to back, because sometimes edits or changes to earlier parts of the story inform later parts.  So for all that, I didn't get enough done yesterday. 

Tonight at least, I have a sushi dinner with friends.  Yum.

Today my son is half a year old.   Um, did I blink or something?  Cause I could swear that he was just a tiny little thing, barely able to keep his eyes open yesterday.   Okay, he never fit into the palm of my hand or anything, he's been a big boy since birth.   (In fact, I'll be rather surprised if he doesn't end up taller than his old man, but that's a few more eye-blinks away yet.)  It is amazing how so much can be packed into such a short time.   And yet, when I left for work, I couldn't help but sneak one extra look at him sleeping, trying to fix that cherubic face in my mind, because I know that it's not going to last forever.   It's my own little way of taking a snapshot.  Just not one I can share with others.

This week has also brought me some news on the writing front.   Over the weekend, I received a rewrite request.   This is my first rewrite request, and that has moved that story back to the top of my work heap, as I try to understand what the editor wants, and imagine how to deliver.  Yes I was excited.   I still am thrilled at the opportunity, and hope the hard work will pay off.

Last night, I got even more news.  Another submission has been accepted for an anthology.  You probably would have heard my shout of joy when I read it, but I'd just spent an hour getting the little man to sleep, and as exciting as the news is, I wasn't about to undo an hour's worth of soothing, and rocking, and effort.   So it was a mental shout out.  

So, yeah, I'm bouncing off the walls right now, much like the icon below.   And for once it's only partly due to the Starbucks Venti I treated myself to this morning.