Imagine the Thrill

Think about being a baby just discovering that you can go places, make choices, instigate actions that bring about a host of fascinating consequences. Like the simple act of tilting a sippy cup up to your lips and letting the water inside cascade down your chin. Or retrieving the cylindrical blue block that has escaped your grasp and rolled away; removing your own shoe and banging it Khrushchev-style on the floor; scrambling madly toward the tangle of wires under the shelves and watching Mama dive to divert your course.

Imagine being such a baby's mother and watching him approach the toy box, peek over its edge, climb onto knees to get a better view and pick out a book (wise boy). Imagine the good fortune to have the camera close at hand, and the wild luck to capture what happened next.

What a lot that mama has to be thankful for.

Loco Motion

We started out this morning with our thinking caps on. Well, Noah did. Headgear does not flatter your correspondent. Which is a shame, for neither does hair loss. No matter. It was the little man who had the pondering to do.

For weeks now, he has been the master of backward motion. Under the couch, beneath the dining table: whatever the destination, he'll be reaching it feet first. With improvements in balance it has become something of an art form. We're on the cusp of baby moonwalking. The kid knows retrogression.



His parents are ready for forward motion. Yesterday Noah wanted like nothing else in the world to insert the entire Flip video camera into his mouth. That led to an idea. And progress: a lunge.



Time to bump up the reward. The toy basket went onto its side. And there was the stiff yellow top of his blocks box, with which to pummel all the toys into submission. Irresistible.

Technology Tastes Good

Quinoa and amaranth cereal for breakfast: 30 cents

Lamb and carrot puree for dinner : $1

Knowing that you don't have to wait until dinner to put something else in your mouth: Priceless

Two for Two

On November 4th, Noah succeeded twice in doing something that his mother had done only once and his father not at all: push the green VOTE button for a winning presidential candidate.

At 10:30am the poll workers at Shiloh Baptist Church cooed, "He wasn't here with you last time!" and signed us in on line 156. "Usually we don't reach this number until three or four o'clock," one of them smiled.

He passed through the blue curtain a second time with Liz in the afternoon, exerting his moderating influence to cancel out dad's YES vote on city ballot initiative number four. Wise correction.

Then, showing the same knack for timing that allowed his parents watch the NCAA championship the night he was born, he didn't stir in his crib until Barack Obama had finished his victory speech. How can you not love this boy?

Trick or Treat