Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Lean on me
One of the many things I love about Boo is that he's a "leaner." He'll drape himself across my shoulder like a cheetah sunning on a tree limb, or rest his head in my lap when I'm sitting on the floor, or plant his forehead against my legs for a little extra support (more emotional than physical at this point, I'd guess). But for me, nothing beats the moments after I pull Boo out of the bathtub. I position the green, hooded frog towel over his head; then he'll reach his arms over my shoulders and press his warm, sweet-smelling body against me for an extended hug. It's such a delicious moment, I never want to let go.
I get my fair share of affection from Boo, but without question, his favorite leaning partner is his dad. Boo has found myriad ways to insinuate himself into Lee's daily routine. He scoots between Lee's knees while he shaves; Lee takes Boo in his arms to fetch the newspaper; Boo's preferred seat for meals is in his father's lap; and they sit side-by-side on the teak bench while Lee enjoys his evening beer. A few weeks ago, Boo created a new ritual with his dad: he found the hand-held wooden back massager, marched over to Lee's chair and handed it to him, turned around and backed up. Boo was demanding a backrub! Every time Lee would stop rubbing, Boo would back into him like a horse using a fence post to scratch an itch. It's just another of the manifestations of the whole physically-sensitive, coordinated, kinesthetic thing that Boo's got going on.
If you were to surmise, based on these anecdotes, that Boo's affection could be easily won, you'd be sorely wrong. He's still reticent about people who are unfamiliar to him, and he will scream his head off if he's handed to a stranger. And that's what made our visit to the park this weekend so remarkable.
I often take Max and Boo to parks in West University because we are likely to encounter many other kids, and as a bonus, I may run into one of my friends. On Saturday morning, we were at Sunset Park when we bumped into Lee's cousin, Boyd, his wife, Erin and their two-year old son, Connor. Boyd is a slightly taller, leaner, younger version of Lee, and the family resemblance is unmistakeable. I hadn't seen Boyd in a few years, and we'd never met each other's kids, so we were getting caught up when Boo spied us from a distance. He walked directly up to Boyd, wrapped his arms around one of Boyd's knees, and leaned heavily. After a couple of minutes, Boyd yielded to Boo's charm and scooped Boo up in his arms. Now Boo was exactly where he wanted to be. He rested his head against Boyd's chest, looking completely content with his place in the universe.
From four feet below, did Boo think that Boyd was really his dad? Or did Boyd seem just familiar enough to be appealing, rather than frightening? Whatever the case, Boo clung to Boyd in the same way that he attaches himself to Lee. So when it came time for Boyd to leave, I could have scripted what would happen. As soon as Boyd began to lower him to the ground, Boo began to wail. And he continued to howl until Boyd walked out of the park and disappeared from sight.
But Boo's lovefest was not yet over. Ten minutes later, Boyd and Connor returned and settled into the rock pile together. By this time, Max and Reed were engaged in a game of chase, dashing up the stairs and down the spiral slide. Then Boo caught sight of Boyd's broad back. In a moment of mommy telepathy, I knew exactly what he planned to do. It's a move I've seen Boo make a hundred times with his dad. He headed for the rock pile, shimmied off the curb, walked backwards until he reached Boyd, and seated himself squarely in his lap. Boo sat happily in the lap of the stranger-who-looked-almost-like-dad, scooping and dumping and sifting rocks until it was time for us to go home.
I get my fair share of affection from Boo, but without question, his favorite leaning partner is his dad. Boo has found myriad ways to insinuate himself into Lee's daily routine. He scoots between Lee's knees while he shaves; Lee takes Boo in his arms to fetch the newspaper; Boo's preferred seat for meals is in his father's lap; and they sit side-by-side on the teak bench while Lee enjoys his evening beer. A few weeks ago, Boo created a new ritual with his dad: he found the hand-held wooden back massager, marched over to Lee's chair and handed it to him, turned around and backed up. Boo was demanding a backrub! Every time Lee would stop rubbing, Boo would back into him like a horse using a fence post to scratch an itch. It's just another of the manifestations of the whole physically-sensitive, coordinated, kinesthetic thing that Boo's got going on.
If you were to surmise, based on these anecdotes, that Boo's affection could be easily won, you'd be sorely wrong. He's still reticent about people who are unfamiliar to him, and he will scream his head off if he's handed to a stranger. And that's what made our visit to the park this weekend so remarkable.
I often take Max and Boo to parks in West University because we are likely to encounter many other kids, and as a bonus, I may run into one of my friends. On Saturday morning, we were at Sunset Park when we bumped into Lee's cousin, Boyd, his wife, Erin and their two-year old son, Connor. Boyd is a slightly taller, leaner, younger version of Lee, and the family resemblance is unmistakeable. I hadn't seen Boyd in a few years, and we'd never met each other's kids, so we were getting caught up when Boo spied us from a distance. He walked directly up to Boyd, wrapped his arms around one of Boyd's knees, and leaned heavily. After a couple of minutes, Boyd yielded to Boo's charm and scooped Boo up in his arms. Now Boo was exactly where he wanted to be. He rested his head against Boyd's chest, looking completely content with his place in the universe.
From four feet below, did Boo think that Boyd was really his dad? Or did Boyd seem just familiar enough to be appealing, rather than frightening? Whatever the case, Boo clung to Boyd in the same way that he attaches himself to Lee. So when it came time for Boyd to leave, I could have scripted what would happen. As soon as Boyd began to lower him to the ground, Boo began to wail. And he continued to howl until Boyd walked out of the park and disappeared from sight.
But Boo's lovefest was not yet over. Ten minutes later, Boyd and Connor returned and settled into the rock pile together. By this time, Max and Reed were engaged in a game of chase, dashing up the stairs and down the spiral slide. Then Boo caught sight of Boyd's broad back. In a moment of mommy telepathy, I knew exactly what he planned to do. It's a move I've seen Boo make a hundred times with his dad. He headed for the rock pile, shimmied off the curb, walked backwards until he reached Boyd, and seated himself squarely in his lap. Boo sat happily in the lap of the stranger-who-looked-almost-like-dad, scooping and dumping and sifting rocks until it was time for us to go home.
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