Being pregnant means you can't give airplane rides

When we first told River about my pregnancy, he didn’t really seem to process it. I told him again, a few weeks later, when he asked me for an airplane ride. I was too far along to be able to place my feet against his chest and lift him into the air with my legs. I felt bad denying his request, and explained why I couldn’t do it. That time, he seemed to understand.

There has been no more mention of airplane rides since that discussion weeks ago, and in fact, I’d forgotten about them.

Last night Mark pointed out my belly to River and how the baby in there would be coming out in a few months.

“Your stomach is very big,” River said.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“That means you can’t give airplane rides.”

At first I was taken aback. What does a pregnancy have to do with airplane rides? Then I remembered how I’d combined explaining the news to him with a denial of his request for an airplane ride.

“Yes, you are right,” I said. “After the baby comes I can give you airplane rides again.”

“Si,” he agreed, seemingly comfortable with the idea that rides would come again and that waiting for this bump to grow and then disappear is nothing out of the ordinary.

I know that memory should be functioning at this age. I imagine it starts much earlier than when we, as parents, are capable of noticing it. But still, I find myself blown away every time I’m confronted with him pulling out a single fact or incident he was exposed to once, in passing, weeks or months beforehand. The brain is a fascinating thing. I’m coming to accept that my child’s brain now contains a vast collection of impressions, connections, facts and memories that form a basis for all his subsequent interactions with the world. Still, I can’t help but marvel at what it is capable of doing, and how little of it I understand.

future handyman

A few months ago, we got a Home Depot workbench on freecycle. It was a nightmare to pick up. Our car broke down on the way to go get it and another pickup fell through as well. But the lady giving it away was very patient with us.

I’m glad because it’s so fun to watch River play with it. He has entered the stage of more imaginative, creative, complicated play, in which he tells me his remnant of bread is a boat in the ocean or he’s summiting a mountain as he climbs the giant bean bag.

He used to not do much with the workbench. But last night, he put on the goggles, took apart the bird house, helped me drill it back together, then used the wrench and screwdriver to pull up bolts and unscrew screws.

It’s such a joy to see the development of real skills. And with my handy brother 20 hours away, we need a handyman around the house. It would be great if River wanted to learn those skills!

Here comes imagination

It’s become more clear lately that River has entered the imaginary world. Last night we repeated a sequence over in over in which he first bounced on my legs (riding the horse), then purposefully fell off, rolled down off the couch onto the floor, where he become a fish, or a shark, swimming in the water. Then he got back up on the horsie to repeat.

I read one blogger who wrote about her wonder that her son could use an Etch-a-Sketch to draw a recognizable object. I’m filled with wonder at the imaginary – that he can pretend to be animals, or an ambulance – as well as the literal – that he can announce the name of a letter before he picks it up and gets excited about the difference between N and enye (the Spanish N with a tilde over it). All of these developments are signs of the brain reaching new levels, of the child becoming more and more of their own person, able to interact with the world in their own way. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.