Alexander continues with almost comical levels of fearlessness. I think he'll be walking by Christmas. Already, he can cruise around the coffee table, and can stand on his own for a second or two. We can't leave him on the bed for more than ten seconds or he's over the edge. And in a playroom full of toys, all he wants are the stero wires and the uncovered outlets.
I thought I'd introduce some gentle roughhousing to give him some of the physical activity he craves. He loves to crawl all over me when I lie on the floor. He grabs my ears and pulls me in for a good slobber. And he loves to get tossed in the air. So the "Earthquake!" game seemed a natural. This is another from my dad's repertoire. Alex sits on my knees and I hold his hands. I say "Earthquake!" and let him fall backwards, over my knees, until he's dangling upside down. Then I say "But I saved the baby!" and pull him upright.
The first time I did it, he grinned so wide while upside down that I could count all eight of his teeth. I pulled him back up and he laughed out loud. But when, two seconds later, I hadn't done it again, he threw his head back with all the force he could muster. We went through four or five rounds and then I stopped to give him a break. This time, he kicked out with his legs as well as throwing himself back over my knees. He can go for ten minutes without a pause. Chris complains that now, when he's carrying Alex, Alex will randomly throw himself backwards without warning. So this was not a good game to teach him.
Meanwhile, Jonathan periodically asks me to take off his toe. This is my own special twist on the "Got your nose" game. I always thought that was pretty dumb as a kid, because noses don't have nails. But toes do! So I pretend to wrench off Jonathan's big toe, then show him the tip of my thumb tucked between my fingers. Sometimes I "throw" it to Chris, who catches it. We tell Jonathan he's very special to have removeable toes.
I always thought he was in on the joke. He asks us to take his toe off and when we play catch, he asks us to throw it to him. And he tucks his thumb in his hand, so I figured he knew what were were doing. Tonight, instead of throwing the toe to Miss Randi, I pretended to toss it in the fireplace. Jonathan, who had been smiles and laughter a moment earlier, instantly got very serious. He asked plaintively "Where is my toe?" I pretended to pick one up off the floor and told him he could have a new toe. He wanted nothing to do with that and looked half pouty and half distressed. I had to go over and pick up his toe from where it had fallen, behind the fireplace tools, and put it back on his foot. He was relieved to see it back, and gave it an extra-firm tug to make sure it was going to stay put.
