protispanakopita

Your first spanakopita! Tension filled the room. It is Daddy’s most favorite food in the whole, wide world, and he really wanted you to love it. Crispy brown filo dough wrapping—blanketing and protecting—warm and feta-filled spinach. It is tasty stuff, and by the looks of things, you agree, lil Greek boy. We were also enjoying some European Cup soccer in the background to complete your cosmopolitan experience. Russia beat the Netherlands, 3:1, in extra minutes.

cell phone light, crocs and wagons

Since I put the black plastic bags on your windows to extend the night, it is nearly impossible to see anything in there, and so I check on you by light of iphone. I feel silly, but you look so sweet by digital cell phone light. I look in on you every night before I drift of to sleep with thoughts of how you are such a miracle and a blessing. My heart wells up when I look at you sleeping.

You have a stuffed dinosaur hanging on your crib, a gift from Jen, one of those with a plastic handle you pull and it plays a lullaby as it scrunches back up. You found it the other day after a long nap. I had heard nothing from you but that lullaby playing. It was a little creepy, I have to say.

Father’s Day found most members of our family giving gifts of you. I gave your daddy three photos of you guys at the beach framed for his new office. Daddy gave Aunt Chris and Papou a picture of you. Your Aunt Chris gave two pictures of you to Daddy and three to Papou. Yia-yia gave Papou a digital picture frame with lots of pictures, mostly of you. Your daddy and I joked that images of you should be our gift-giving domain.
Yesterday we were all up early enough so that Daddy could go on our morning neighborhood walk with us. At some point during the walk, you reached over and grabbed his finger and held it for several blocks, looking up every once in a while with a gaze of gratitude that Daddy was on this trek with us.

You LOVE my Crocs, but they are dirty and gross, and I don’t let you play with them. Today I got out your Crocs, another hand-me-down from Aunt Jates and your cousins. You were HI-larious with those on your feet. I held your hands and you tried to walk, lifting your feet very high with each step and looking down to see if you could figure out what was different. After a few trippy steps, you sat down and tried to pull them off your feet. Not so crazy about shoes, just yet. Me either, lil man.

Yesterday afternoon we got out the little red wagon Mammy and Papa gave you (and each grandchild) after you were born. You loved it, but you are such a daredevil, refusing to sit down as I pulled you around the yard. It made me nervous, afraid you would spill out onto the driveway right before my eyes, so this little distraction did not last very long. I think Daddy needs to outfit your wagon hoo-ride with a safety belt of some sort, since you need to be tied down to sit still these days.

morning walk

The morning coolness lingers, and this morning you sat and played by me in the yard as I weeded the garden and surrounding mulch bed. You are such a good kid. Our neighborhood walks often take us past a significant stand of rosemary. I brush over it and get the wonderful aroma on my hand for you to smell. You are so sweet. You slightly open your mouth, concentrate really hard and then sniff in, usually scrunching up your nose. You seem to appreciate the scent of the rosemary, and today I broke off a small piece for you to hold and smell. You thought you were something, my lil gardener. I hope I am teaching you to appreciate herbs and vegetables.

neighborhood wanderings

Most mornings you and I take a walk; it happens at that point when you are no longer entertained by your toys or crawling all over the kitchen and about a half hour before the breakfast bottle and cereal. Today you were irritable early. I’m pretty sure you’re getting ready to cut some teeth on the top now. There is the excessive crankiness that is uncharacteristic of you. You’ve been spitting up more, and your poop has taken on a runnier consistency. Maybe that last part was a tad too much information, but you should probably know this about your mom and dad–weirdos that we are: we talk about poop and did long before you, oh poopy baby, came into our world. Anyway, the walk started early this morning out of necessity, but it was so beautiful and cool neither one of us minded. We stayed out for breakfast too, and you dined al fresco by our sprouting vegetable garden and in the shade of the maple tree we planted for you.

You are all smiles and eager when you see the stroller come out. I plop you in, give you some hand-held toy for entertainment, and we head out. Your eyes follow birds and butterflies. You anticipate the dog around the corner, Bo-bo, who we always check in on. You wave at trees and stare at fire hydrants. You watch dump trucks and city buses grind by. You study litter in the street and reach out for things that creep close to your reach just outside the stroller’s edge. Today you found monkey grass and let it tickle your monkey toes. It was very sweet.

cheerios, fingerprints and nicknames

It has been another week of busy-ness, and there have been many opportunities for you to make me smile or laugh out loud.

I gave you a pretty big piece of banana to gnaw on since you struggle to chase the slippery littler pieces around the tray of your highchair. You were covered in stickiness and banged your tray full of cheerios. One bounced on your arm, but you didn’t notice it at first. When you started to take a bite of your banana, you caught the cheerio out of the corner of your eye, and in mid-motion of banana to mouth you diverted and vacuumed the cheerio off of your forearm. I laughed out loud.

I am certain the person who invented stainless steel and, more importantly, named it, never had a little person like you toddling around, pulling up on everything. You are constantly moist and sticky, and you leave significant fingerprints all over the dishwasher, refrigerator and stove as you pull yourself up on each appliance. I think I can maintain sanity by resigning to cleaning all stainless steel once a month.

You pulled one of the rings off of the stove handle I had put on there to entertain you as we played on the kitchen floor one afternoon, and you wanted to bring it with you as you crawled to me. You tried to crawl with it in your hand and could not. Then you laid it down and started to crawl, only to realize you were leaving something behind. You amazed me when you decided to put it into your mouth and crawl to me that way. Granted, the ring was in your mouth, not your nose, but you looked like a charging bull, grin wide as you crawled my way, grand success under your diaper edge. You were so proud, and I was so impressed.

Your dad and I have fiercely resisted the nickname Ollie. We’ve even gone so far as to identify the closest version of Oliver in Greek as Elias, so your nickname could legitimately, if a bit convolutedly, be Eli. We have been quite successful in keeping Ollie at bay, and we have given you many other loving nicknames. Like… Boo-boo, Snickerdoodle, Stinkerdoodle, Bug, and Wubsie, shortened from Oliver-Woliver-Wubsie.

You were an angel today and often are when we need you to be. We went with Yia-yia, Papou, Thia, Aunt Leats, Kam, Braeden and Lily to the Hermitage for Father’s Day brunch. We were there for several hours, and you were amazingly good. Thank you for that, Wubsie; you are certainly a good boy.