Teeth

Part of the reason Eddie has been more difficult lately is teething. His mouth seems to be bothering him, but he won't let us look at it, so it's hard to tell what's going on! The other day we finally got to peek inside, and saw half of a big molar has emerged on the upper right side of his mouth. Ouch! It's big! We can feel a molar pushing through on the upper left side, too, but I'm not sure if it's broken through yet.

Walking

Eddie was trundling along pushing his walker, which is full of blocks. He came across a board book on the floor (Clifford Barks!), and paused to look at it. Then he laboriously got down, removed a block from the walker, and whacked the book with the block a few times. This done, he pulled back up on the walker and continued on his way.

On the way back (he can't steer the walker much, so he goes until he runs into something, then gets on the other side and goes backwards), he retrieved the block and put it back in the walker's bin.

Antibiotics

Eddie's doctor thinks that he has an ear infection, which probably caused his fever this week.  So he prescribed antibiotics.  Of course, this was right after I was at a talk last weekend about the effects that bacteria in your intestines have on your mental state.  It turns out that the presence of certain bacteria in the guts of mice make them more exploratory, while other bacteria (which are present in breastfeeding baby mice) make the mice calmer.  Some bad bacteria (C. diff), if present in large numbers, are correlated with schizophrenia and other mental disorders.  And there's been stuff in the paper about the impact of gut flora on depression and obesity. Taking antibiotics kills off lots of the gut bacteria, sometimes leaving C. diff alone to take over (very bad) but, in any case, changing the makeup of the gut flora.  The upshot is that whenever you take antibiotics, it has long-term effects on mental health which are not understood, but probably bad.

So I said "Well, geez, Eddie's never had antibiotics, I guess we should keep it that way!" Alas.

He gets big doses by mouth, out of a huge syringe.  He never minded taking medicine before (it's generally sweet), but with all the medicine and temperature measurements and things we've been doing to him this week, he wanted nothing to do with it.  We had to hold his hands and get the syringe in his mouth while he twisted away and screamed and spat it out: a torment in the morning and at bedtime.  Then last night I tried putting it on a spoon, and he took it with no problem, and even seemed eager for more!  This has continued today.  It is a huge relief, since we have about a week more of this stuff to get through!

Walkin'

Picky eater

Eddie's become pickier lately: he used to eat anything, but now it's more of an ordeal. Often he has Cheerios on his tray, so he can control an aspect of the meal himself. When he doesn't want to take a spoonful that we're offering, he'll keep eating Cheerios to keep his mouth occupied. Today he was doing that while I was trying to feed him some yogurt, but got to the last Cheerio. Seeking to prolong his ploy, he split it into quarters and ate them one by one (chewing thoroughly!)

Potential escapee

Eddie understands that doorknobs are the key to opening doors, but hasn't quite figured out how yet. He likes to rattle the doorknob and yank on it, so that the door thumps in its frame. He'll do this at the front door, the bedroom door, or the bathroom door when they're closed - come to think of it, that's all the doors we have (except the nursery door, which doesn't really latch.) He's even locked and unlocked the little lock set in the door knob.

On Sunday, he started walking with a walker for the first time. He can pull up on it and trundle along all on his own, and he's very proud of himself! He's got good balance, too—even when the walker runs up on something and tilts over, he manages to extricate himself without falling.

As I sat in the bathroom with the knob rattling and the door under assault, it occurred to me that Eddie could figure out the "turn the doorknob" thing, and also begin walking without the walker, at pretty much any time, and then there's nothing to stop him from opening the door and wandering out around the neighborhood, while his parents remain unawares that he's even capable of such a thing. Until now, the vicinity of the front door has been a pretty good spot where he can amuse himself without getting into any trouble. But the next time we leave him to his own devices for a few minutes, he could turn out to be outside rascalling the neighbors out of treats!

Scare

Yesterday, Eddie woke up with a fever, but it didn't seem too bad. He had a pretty normal morning, playing, then fell asleep while nursing sometime after 11 and had a second morning nap (which he never does.) When he woke up around noon, he was cheerful. Then after about ten minutes, as he was crawling along, he dropped his head, gave a piteous cry, and stayed frozen there on all fours. I didn't realize anything was wrong until Anne picked him up.  His eyes were staring and he was completely unresponsive.

The phone was dead, and calling on our computer through Google Talk (which is how we do a lot of our phone calls) doesn't allow calling 911.  I tried calling our doctor, but the office was closed for Presidents' Day.  Luckily Anne had plugged in the phone and turned it on, so that by now I could call 911 with it. After that the firefighters were there within a couple of minutes (the fire department is only half a block away, but they brought the truck around anyway!), followed by EMTs in an ambulance a few minutes later. This whole time Eddie was unresponsive and jerking. It was very frightening, although the firefighters and EMTs assured us that it's not unusual and babies recover without ill effects.

After getting in the ambulance, Eddie began to cry inconsolably, which was at least a more familiar state, but wouldn't open his eyes or respond to us. He stayed the same way at the hospital for a couple of hours, calming down once or twice but not for long. He finally fell asleep around 2.  When he woke up around 3, he was much better, if grumpy. After that he was okay, and his fever (which peaked above 104°) went down to normal temperatures. We stayed at the hospital for another four hours, though, with a neurologist visit and some tests to rule out various possibilities. These were all negative and they concluded that it was just a "normal" febrile seizure.

We hadn't brought the phone, and Anne was more or less in her pajamas, and we hadn't gotten anything to eat; Eddie got by with some food which happened to be in his diaper bag. We didn't know how we'd get home, since we don't know anyone's phone numbers! Fortunately we have terrifically generous friends and one works at the hospital.  The operator connected us and he gave us a ride home after we were released.  Later, his wife brought us a lovely cooked meal with wine and flowers. Knowing such people makes these terrible things in life easier, and we're very grateful.

Reading

Eddie loves to read, with others and by himself. Throughout the day he'll sit quietly by his bookshelf and flip through some books. The other day he was babbling on in a bored manner while perusing Olivia. I wondered why he sounded so blah. Then I realized he sounded a lot like me as I was unceremoniously reciting an article earlier in the day. Later, he read a whole book in raspberries and then in baas.

One of our favorite books to read at nap time is Freight Train by Donald Crews. It takes us through all the different cars of a freight train and the different places it goes. We make chugging and whistle sounds. A few times a week, we'll go for a walk to Northpoint Park along the Charles River. This takes us on a bridge over the commuter rail going to Maine from North Station. It's a busy track so we always see trains and I stop to point them out. This is in a very noisy, complex space, just where the Charles enters the Harbor and the architectural beauty Zakim Bridge towers overhead. It's hard to focus in on anything, your eyes and ears are so completely teeming. The last time I stopped to watch the trains, Eddie had his typical observant glaze for a moment then sat up straight and pointed. He saw the train! It's just like what he reads about at home! He kept watching and pointing as we crossed over the tracks. Che bambone!

Chairs

In the last few days, Eddie has started moving the chairs around a lot. We keep his high chair by the wall, and pull it out when it's meal time. Now he'll pull it from the wall toward his meal spot before meal times—I guess he's getting hungry! He also moves all our kitchen chairs around. They're pretty light and easy to rearrange for the budding infant interior decorator.

Doors

The other day, Eddie was with me in the bedroom as I was getting dressed.  He pulled up to bang on the closet door.  These are metal folding doors, so they're very satisfying to bang on.  He was starting to get close to the resonant frequency, so that they were beginning to fold up and straighten out, and he might eventually be able to drum it open.

With him thus engaged, I thought it would be safe to step a few feet out of the bedroom to get my watch and wallet.  But the instant I was out of sight, he beelined for the nightstand (which he's not allowed to touch.)  So much for the age of innocence!

Friends feed friends

Eddie's buddy Luke wanted to make sure Eddie got some food!

Standing

Eddie stood unsupported today!  He had two books to show Mommy, and he stood up with one in each hand to offer her, and stayed that way for quite a while (not long enough for a picture, of course.)
I think he thinks that holding on to the books counts as holding on to something, so that he can do it.

Whistling

Anne was whistling, and Eddie started dancing along (he likes to bounce up and down, roughly in time to music, while he's sitting.)  Then, having danced his fill, he crawled over and put his hand over Anne's mouth.  This proving ineffective, he put his hands over his ears.

Music is a sometimes thing, Mom!

Blizzard in Boston

Perceptivity

Somehow, Eddie knows when we're not likely to approve of something. The other day, I noticed that he was being unusually silent. Looking around, I discovered that he was behind the recliner, by the window, so I snuck over to get on the chair and looked over the back to see what he was up to. He was investigating the end of the blinds' pull-cord, which had gotten down to the floor somehow (they're normally hung out of his reach.) I don't think we've ever told him that those are off-limits—but he knew!

I suppose it's encouraging that he's already internalizing our ideas of good and bad behavior. And he's showing a lot of promise in the rascalliness department. As I watched him, he kept turning around the caps, then—struck by a sudden suspicion—he twisted around and looked up to find me watching. He knew just what to do: brazen it out. "Hi!" he exclaimed, with a grin.

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We have two sets of lights in the bathroom—brighter ones over the sink, which we normally use, and a dimmer overhead one which takes a while to get going. I was in the bathroom with Eddie in the early morning, so I used the dimmer light for less of a shock. He looked perplexed as he sat there—he could tell something was weird. He looked around, then looked right up at the overhead light—he'd figured out what was weird! And from there, he turned his gaze to the normal lights—he knew how it normally worked!

Hmm. On reflection, this may seem less exciting if you are not a father up before the sun.

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On the rascally front, Eddie likes to pull up on the nightstand in the bedroom, which is not allowed because the mirror set up on it is liable to fall on his head. Today, he was chasing his ball around and it "happened" to end up in the bedroom, so he had to follow it. I went in after him, and he was the picture of innocence. I picked up the ball and tossed it out of the bedroom for him to follow. He pointed after it. "Yes!" I said. "There's your ball! Go get it!"

He considered this for a second, but seemed reluctant to go after the ball. "Go on!" I urged him. Then he pointed at the nightstand. ("But, Daddy, I am really just trying to get to that.")

"No, you can't mess with the nightstand. Go get your ball."

At that, he pointed his left hand toward the ball out the door, while his right hand was still pointing at the nightstand. Here was a baby caught in the cruel horns of a dilemma!

Well, I helped him resolve his difficulties—by physically removing him from the room.

Babies!