a year gone by

PC's one-year visit to the pediatrician was quite eventful. For the first time, he fully resisted the whole thing--do NOT try to measure me, do NOT try to weigh me, or look in my ears, or my nose. We're still in the Very Tall range, and all other measures of health are good. The behavior, however, was quite challenging. He pretty much showed the MD the same attitude he has been showing us the last five months, when changing a diaper went from a relatively easy procedure to one that can require two people and can involve chasing and misplaced feces. Remind me to tell you sometime what I stepped on the other day in the living room :)

For every little hassle that comes along with a more squirrely boy, there are the joys of seeing the world through his eyes. Preparing for the birthday party C bought four balloons. While carrying them, PC, and a bagful of other party favors into the house, though, three of the balloons detached from the others and floated away, slowly above the house, then beyond the hundred-foot trees, to that place where balloons go to die. PC watched the whole spectacle with awe and wonder--those things float? It was a bit difficult for me not to see the symbolism in all of this--balloons flying away as loss. The last time I remember seeing balloons float away was at my dad's funeral, four years ago, when each of my nephews and nieces released a balloon after the service and before the internment. At the same time, watching PC watch balloons was pure magic. He gasped, he babbled something at them, he reached to bring them back. He didn't take his eyes off them. It made him smile, and it made me appreciate balloons, all over again. And the one that we managed not to lose is still providing laughs, two weeks later.