We’ve just moved north. We’re in a town-house until our new home is built. Your grandmother Kathy and grandfather George visited while the builder sat at the kitchen table with your mother and I discussing building plans. You were comfortably sitting with your grandmother chewing your plastic flexible frog. You put the frog’s head in your mouth and chew the head as though it were a binky.
Smile. RI, roughly one month before moving.
A great thing has happened. -We’ll be building our house on land that’s surrounded by Maine Forrest. Your back yard is an extension of hundreds of miles of trails. This is important. I have many great memories as a child while playing in a ravine tucked away in farmland. Now, you’ll have you’re own ravine on a much larger scale. As it should be. Parents should strive to give their children a better life than their own. All while remembering what humbled them, what developed them and what lead them to the moment of the birth of their children. I’ll not forget. We, your mother and I, along with your entire family, have many plans for you and we’ve much to show and teach you. It’ll all begin in your back yard.
Your back yard. Maine.
You’ll be coming with us as we clear the land this spring. You’ll see the pouring of the foundation, the raising of the walls and you’ll be there as we all celebrate our first time opening the front door.
I’ve noticed an ability you’ve been given. Everyone who meets you wants to hold you. They hold you and smell the top of your head and nuzzle you with their noses. They smile. They all smile. Sometimes you wiggle and bend your way into gazing up at whomever holds you and you smile back. Your family is spread all through out New England. They travel to be with you.
You’ve just turned 7 months old. We consider you to be very sturdy. You roll over constantly. You sit up very well. You have large hands. You stand with help. You’re trying to crawl and I believe you’ll achieve this in two to three weeks. You come to attention when you hear classical music such as Mozart, Beethoven and Bach.
You vocalize when you see your two Maine Coon cats. And when in your jumper chair you hold your arms up when you wish to be held. This works well for you. Your first real food was avocado. You ate the entire portion.
Maine. Your first week in the town-house.
When I raise my eyebrows, while wearing a grin, you smile. So, I walk around wearing a smile nearly all day. Thank you. I’m fortunate that my career is in technology. I’m able to not only work from our home office, but I’m also able to be with you every day. I no longer eat lunch alone. I brew my morning coffee knowing I’ll soon hear you waking. Which means I’ll soon be opening your bedroom door. Which means I’ll soon be hovering over your crib with my eyebrows raised.
I’m often told that we should put you in day care. Your mother and I think not. We think I’ll have you as long as I can. I view my time with you as a gift. The first piece of literature I read to you was Ernest Hemingway’s Old Man and The Sea. I love to read and I had you to read it to. If I can better learn to balance my work, with life, than I believe I’ll be learning to become a better father. Putting you in day care has nothing to do with difficulty raising you, but rather with my own limitations as a parent and how I can further develop them. I write this so openly because I worry that our society too quickly passes on the opportunity to be with their children. That’ll not be me. You are my handsome companion whom helps me cherish moments. My little man. Just now you’re rolling around in the center of our king size bed with two pillows on either side of you. You roll to one and than the other. You have found the opening in the pillow case where the zipper connects the fabric. You’re talking to the zipper.
Moments after chewing on said zipper. (I flipped the pillow to hide the zipper.)
That’s it for now, Gavin. I see that you’ve decided the zipper ought to be chewed on and it’s clearly time to pick you up.
And remember- It is a gift to love. Your mother and I love you which clearly means you are the gift.
Just before moving, RI.