The Beat of a Tiny Drum

I’ve been trying to spend as much time with Silas as I can. And I suppose that’s only understandable, but I’ve been trying to watch him and make observations about the nature of his emerging personality. He’s starting to develop his own little quirks and habits and I keep straining to find the beat of his growing inner rhythm so I can try my best to follow along and hope to keep up. He doesn’t seem so much like a baby to me anymore; he’s becoming a little, tiny person all his own. And, of course, I worry a lot about what he thinks and how he feels. I tried to capture a few snapshots that would illustrate his irrepressible nature; the very thing that makes me love him so much and that also makes it increasingly difficult to establish a sound disciplinary tone. (I just can’t be hard-nosed with him about anything.) Please forgive my lack of skill as photographer and take into account the fact that the kid is never still for more than a nanosecond at a time. (Oh yes, and also forgive the obligatory “Fireman” picture.)





But my worries still grow, in spite of the sparkling light that seems to shoot out of him like fine, coppery, glittering gold dust and silver motes caught in the evening springtime sun. (Too much?)
Like all kids, he’s always after things he shouldn’t play with. He ignores the huge pile of toys that I have for him and goes for all the grown-up stuff. He’s fascinated with remote controls. I usually just let him play with them and I sit by while he flips the channels or shifts through all the radio stations and he seems to get a real kick out of it. He’s just starting to realize that he’s doing it; that he’s making it happen.
Well…last night, he grabbed the stereo remote and starting chewing on it. That’s no big deal…he does it all the time. But then he turned on the CD player and the room exploded in South American guitar music. It almost broke my heart when I saw how he reacted.
I have no idea what the CD is or what it’s called or even who the artist is…I only know that his mother received it as a Christmas gift and she used to play it every day for him. I usually came home to find him listening to it while he ate or played or jumped fervently in his Jumpy-swing.
The minute the music started I could see the wide-eyed look on his face and I knew that he recognized it. He then positively tried to break his neck as he looked around at every corner and at every door searching desperately for his mother. He kept looking at me questioningly and then looking around…as if he knew that she had turned on his music and he couldn’t figure out where she was or why she wouldn’t show herself.
Well, I have to keep up a brave front for him and I know that he can sense my moods and I try very hard to always be happy around him. But this really caught me off guard and I had to turn off the music. He didn’t like it one bit and he gave me a look I hope I never see again on his face. I’ve never felt guiltier in my life.
And that’s why I worry so much. Not to mention that his mother told me this morning that he needs to start eating “real food” and I’m terrified of him choking or being allergic to something. For the first time, I began to question my ability to make sure that he has the best of what he needs, especially the little things. I’m terrified of it. I’ve already discovered how hard it is just to do the basic things when you’re all alone and there’s nobody around to help or to laugh at me or to see all the funny little things he does.
It’s always very sad when he leaves me but this morning was extra hard and I tried double to not let on that I was upset. I think I blew it.


Well, that went south in a hurry, eh? But I guess I’ll just have to save up my strength for the next time.
I wish this rain would let up so we could get outside and make some Real Trouble. He hasn’t eaten any dirt yet.