Thursday, May 26, 2005
Boo's Obsession: Part I
In his short lifetime, Boo has had a handful of passions--cats, horses, cows, painting and books. But nothing compares to the ordinary object that captivates Boo above all else: the ball. So fully do balls fill Boo's consciousness that when he sees a round object, he invariably calls it a ball. A couple of months ago, Lee and Boo were playing outside in the late afternoon with Boo caught sight of the full moon. He pointed toward the faint white orb and yelled, "Ball!" I started to say that Boo's reaction was animated by misplaced conviction, but in the truly grand scheme of things, I suppose he was spot on.
Over several months, I've been composing a lengthy post about Boo's obsession with balls, but the stories have become so numerous that I now think it better to parse them out in serial fashion. I'll begin with the following one because it's short and sweet.
My bedtime routine with Boo involves none of the demands or negotiations favored by his brother. I rock Boo for a short spell, singing "You Are My Sunshine" and a closing lullaby. Still cradling him in my arms, I say, "It's bedtime, Boo" and he parrots, "Bedtime." I lift him to my face and kiss his cheeks, whispering, "Good night, sweet prince, I love you so. Sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning." And I gently lay him in his crib.
To this day, it amazes me that Reed actually remains horizontal. Max would pop up from the mattress as if springloaded and plead for his freedom. But not Boo, who entertains himself until he drifts off to sleep. His parting thought, as he gazes up at me serenely, is to utter a single syllable: "Ball."
Over several months, I've been composing a lengthy post about Boo's obsession with balls, but the stories have become so numerous that I now think it better to parse them out in serial fashion. I'll begin with the following one because it's short and sweet.
My bedtime routine with Boo involves none of the demands or negotiations favored by his brother. I rock Boo for a short spell, singing "You Are My Sunshine" and a closing lullaby. Still cradling him in my arms, I say, "It's bedtime, Boo" and he parrots, "Bedtime." I lift him to my face and kiss his cheeks, whispering, "Good night, sweet prince, I love you so. Sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning." And I gently lay him in his crib.
To this day, it amazes me that Reed actually remains horizontal. Max would pop up from the mattress as if springloaded and plead for his freedom. But not Boo, who entertains himself until he drifts off to sleep. His parting thought, as he gazes up at me serenely, is to utter a single syllable: "Ball."
1 Comments:
What a sweet story, Melanie. It sounds as if just the word "ball" - or the image in Reed's mind when he says it - is comforting to him. I imagine him telling you someday that when you put him to bed at night as a child, he fell asleep thinking about a ball.
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