Like Father

Tucker seems to have come equipped with a set of sound effects that rivals his father’s. His father, whose parents had to buy a conversion van for the third row seating, the all-the-way-in-the-back bench that still, from what I’ve heard, allowed his father’s airplane noises to fill the space in the front of the vehicle. His father, who impersonates cartoon characters convincingly, who replicates mechanical sounds astoundingly well, who mimics animal noises with ease and accuracy.  His father, who reads children's books with a variety of foreign accents, depending on the story’s setting and on how the mood strikes.  His father, whose playtime soundtrack includes block buildings that explode, fire engines that whistle, thunder that booms, train brakes that screech, and dinosaurs that roar.

His father shows pride in Tuck's one-year-old ability to pretend to cough and sneeze and burp and snore.  His father encourages every vocal imitation, all of his baby buzzes and hisses and clangs and thuds.  His father taught him to "ahhh" after a gulp of milk, to "ughh" while climbing a rocky slope, to "mmmnh" during heavy lifting.
Perhaps it should come as no surprise that this one small creature can sound like the cavalry.

JEB

To a T

He fits our family.  Perfectly.

JEB

Special Wish

The outdoor bench is long enough for her to stretch out on and wide enough for us to lie next to her.  It has a thick, soft cushion, which has already been wiped clean of plum juice and soiled prints and pizza sauce, because the bench happens to be just the right height for Tucker to scale and join her, too.  Perfect, really.

After more than a year of deliberating and declining we made a wish for her.  And we'd like to believe that she's pleased.  Speech has long departed her, but her smiles, especially the big ones on her new backyard bench, will forever echo in the marrow of our bones.
JEB

Prime

It's hot, and it's messy, and rumor has it Andy's rib recipe rivals the best there.  But, we go.  The Jazz and Rib Fest is becoming a fundamental part of our summer routine.  And although Tucker had been primed for the experience last year, actually tasting the ribs this year made this time far more fun.

 JEB

Highlights

This montage of the first half of Tuck's sixteenth month convenes some highlights from his days and captures a small fraction of his personality.  I wish there were other things we'd caught on tape, too...  The way he places emphasis at the end of the word "circle," the manner in which he announces he's done with a meal by declaring himself a "mess," the way he blesses the dog when Colby sneezes, the effort he puts into trying to squeeze both feet, and then the rest of his body, into a dryer sheet box. 

 JEB

When

He can almost transform the word ornery into an honorable trait, something better than a minor character flaw.  When he pulls the pillow from beneath her head, telling himself "no, no, no" in the process.  When he piles blankets on top of her, nearly smothering her, or when he kneels on her tummy, pressing all of his weight into her, in order to give her a kiss.  When he shares toys with her, flinging them at her face, or when he shoves the bottle up her nose trying to offer her a sip of his milk. 

When people love our children, we feel loved ourselves.  We see it in the sympathetic faces of strangers, we sense it in the strong hugs from family, we hear it in the soft words of friends.  But sometimes it feels like all the love in the world is concentrated right here, stacked up all around her on the couch, when earth feels not far outside heaven.
JEB

Certain

You gaze at me with a sunny, childlike certainty, a look that shows you know that I am here, always.  You move toward me, arms outstretched, draping your hands over my shoulders, letting them dangle around my neck.  Still, I am afraid.  I want you to burrow into me for everything you'll ever need.  I want to kiss every scraped knee and to quit the sting of all your hurts.  I want to see your first crayoned picture, and the colored counter beneath it.  I want to pack your lunches and praise your graded papers.  I want to send you away to camp, and then to college.  And I want you to come home again and again.  I want to be your world, and I want to give you the world.  But I’ve learned all too soon and all too well that our world is not certain.

JEB