Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Just a-swingin'
Much is made in baby books of the phenomenon of "firsts": first tooth, first word, first haircut. But in their degree of significance to parent and child, all "firsts" are not created equal. Many, in fact, are much more satisfying to the older generation. A baby's first smile is a priceless reward for months of pregnancy, hours of labor, and days of insufficient sleep. And surely it is a greater relief to the parents when a baby first sleeps through the night or a toddler discovers the proper use for his potty.
Other "firsts", I think, are momentous for parent and child alike, but for different reasons. Imagine the exhileration and freedom a child might feel the first time he takes a few steps, rides his bike down the street or earns his driver's license, and the trepidation and pang of loss his parents experience at the same instant.
Then there are those "firsts" that loom larger in a child's mind than in his parents'. For instance, Max has become fixated lately on the idea of losing his first tooth. Even though I've assured him that he still has 3 years to go, more or less, he is vigilant for signs of the first wiggle.
Max crossed another of these symbolic thresholds this week. A couple of days ago the kids were playing on the swingset. Max had been asking me to push him higher and higher on the swing, when suddenly he leaned back, pulled hard with his arms, and launched himself skyward. In a split second, Max's world was transformed. Each time he pulled with his arms and straightened his legs, he chanted: "I can do it! I can do it! I can do it!" After a few swings of his own, Max asked me to push him higher still, but now that was impossible: his own trajectory was taking him as far as the swing would go. After awhile, Max became convinced he could go no higher. Then at the apex of his swing, in that moment of suspension between upward momentum and gravity, he shouted triumphantly: "I never give up!"
Every significant accomplishment in a child's life deserves to be witnessed by at least one adoring fan, and yesterday Max was blessed with two. Each time Max let out a self-congratulatory cry, Boo responded with a gleeful laugh. I have probably said this before, and I will surely say it again: no sound on earth gladdens my heart more than that of my boys joined by mutual delight.
Other "firsts", I think, are momentous for parent and child alike, but for different reasons. Imagine the exhileration and freedom a child might feel the first time he takes a few steps, rides his bike down the street or earns his driver's license, and the trepidation and pang of loss his parents experience at the same instant.
Then there are those "firsts" that loom larger in a child's mind than in his parents'. For instance, Max has become fixated lately on the idea of losing his first tooth. Even though I've assured him that he still has 3 years to go, more or less, he is vigilant for signs of the first wiggle.
Max crossed another of these symbolic thresholds this week. A couple of days ago the kids were playing on the swingset. Max had been asking me to push him higher and higher on the swing, when suddenly he leaned back, pulled hard with his arms, and launched himself skyward. In a split second, Max's world was transformed. Each time he pulled with his arms and straightened his legs, he chanted: "I can do it! I can do it! I can do it!" After a few swings of his own, Max asked me to push him higher still, but now that was impossible: his own trajectory was taking him as far as the swing would go. After awhile, Max became convinced he could go no higher. Then at the apex of his swing, in that moment of suspension between upward momentum and gravity, he shouted triumphantly: "I never give up!"
Every significant accomplishment in a child's life deserves to be witnessed by at least one adoring fan, and yesterday Max was blessed with two. Each time Max let out a self-congratulatory cry, Boo responded with a gleeful laugh. I have probably said this before, and I will surely say it again: no sound on earth gladdens my heart more than that of my boys joined by mutual delight.
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