without a definite route

18 months

on February 16, 2007

dear emmit ~

i can’t believe it’s your 1/2 birthday! you might actually get to eat chocolate to celebrate this momentous occasion. since you’re related to your daddy, i suspect that your first bite will initiate your chocoholism and start the dessert battles. on the other hand, you haven’t had many sweets yet so maybe you’ll just take it in stride like you do any other food that we’ve given you. except for beets, which make you pucker up your face with a look that says you’ll never trust me again.

of course, the big news this month is that you are such an amazing big boy walker! it’s funny what walking does, how it changes things. you’re still the same little guy who tries to get into everything and who climbs anything over 12 inches high, but in some ways walking has completely transformed you. you are finally the toddler that you’ve looked like since you were 8-months old. the new walker emmit has been a blast. so far there haven’t been any serious injuries and you are getting better every day. sometimes you walk all grown-up-style with your hands by your sides; sometimes you multi-task and carry as many toys as you can and other times you lift your arms in front of you like a zombie. i’m sure you can guess which one we prefer.


your daddy and i have always aimed for whimsy and humor in our lives and relationships. it turns out that you were the missing puzzle piece for advanced levels of fun. we constantly laugh and laugh. and you laugh and laugh with us because you are simply the happiest creature on the face of the planet. i’d love to take some credit for it, but the truth is that you are just that good natured. you’ve been sick the past couple of days and i mentioned to someone that you’ve been a little grumpy and they had to ask what that looks like. and, pretty much? looks like most other kids on their best days.

one afternoon before you were walking for real, i came home from work to discover that you were still napping. your daddy had taken you to “emmit george silbert fan club headquarters” at the nifs daycare (seriously, they are crazy about you there). while he worked out on the treadmill, you worked out in the hallway. they held your hands and made you walk back and forth until you could take it no more. you passed out in the car on the drive home, your daddy put you in your crib and there you still were dozing away when i got home. at first, i freaked out a little that you were sleeping too late and that you wouldn’t go down for your regular bedtime (you see, although the sleeping situation has gotten much better, i am quick to return to my well-earned paranoia), but then i sat next to your crib for awhile and watched you through the slats. 

i used to hold you in my arms for hours while you slept, but now you’re too big and too restless for that and your constant flip flopping doesn’t lend itself to having a family bed in the magnet. i’m also generally too exhausted at the end of the day for meaningful baby gazing. so it was a lovely treat watching you at rest. every so often, you twitched and i’d hold my breath. at one point, you rolled onto your back and stretched. i thought for sure you were waking up, but you curled back onto your side and started snoring again. did i say snoring? i sure did. there is nothing dainty about you, my love. not even your breathing.

then you slowly opened your eyes and squinted at me – that’s a funny thing you’ve started to do, the squint. when it first appeared a few weeks ago, it made me think that your daddy’s cynicism had passed into your dna and was shooting out of your eyes, like you were saying, “really mama? if that is your name.” but now the squint is something you do as part of flirting. you squint, tilt your head, put your tongue between your teeth and kind of hum for a second. oh yeah, it’s quite the combo of silliness. the thing is, it totally works. you’re like a flirting boy genious.

the squint

the other morning, josh walked into the room and you looked up and said, “hi daddy.” we both froze, looking at you, waiting for you to repeat it. which, course, you didn’t because you’re such a tease. you seem to be saying “this” when you point at things and, sometimes “here” when you hand something to me. you say “ghee” for your g.j., which is funny, like your grandma is clarified butter. i’m okay with you addressing her by name before you say mama to my face. really, she’s earned it. she says that i always preferred my grandma george to anyone else, including her, so it’s only fair that you do the same with your grandma. in fact, you are ridiculously funny with her. if she’s anywhere near, you have to be with her. you won’t even stay in my arms if she’s there. you better believe that she likes that you like her best. i suppose i can live with it, like i have a choice. i’m looking forward to nana coming to visit from atlanta and giving g.j. a run for her money. like a grandma battle royale fight to the death. or something more loving and less, you know, death-like.

standing & reading

the time is near for us to cut your hair. it’s gone beyond gene wilder-ey and is kinda clown-like. it often gets into your mouth when you’re eating. once i kept trying to brush a strand out of your face and it wouldn’t go anywhere. it was stuck to dry snot under your nose. i practically needed a sandblaster to unstick it. that’s something i never really thought of in my fantasies about having babies. the snot. oh so much snot. when i pick you up in the middle of the night and you snuggle into my neck, i feel heartbreaking love and downright revulsion. one day you sneezed and i learned about projectile snot. there should be a pamphlet at the doctor’s office called What You Need to Know About Projectile Snot. it should include many many illustrations. the thing is that the snot totally flies out of your nose and then rubber-bands back. to be clear, it doesn’t disconnect, but actually returns to its point of origin. i have to move superhero-quick to try to wipe your nose before you smear it all over your face. sometimes it’s easier to just give in and, on those days, the snot acts as gel and pastes your eyebrows straight up. like heatmiser:

heat miser

your daddy and i had a ridiculous conversation about your looming first haircut. i suggested that we ask a friend/neighbor/hair stylest if he would trim your hair and your daddy launched into a diatribe about how the first couple of years of a child’s life there should be some freebies and haircuts are one of them. i got the feeling that he had put some real thought into it. he talked about how self awareness and ego don’t kick in until later in life and, therefore, we could cut your hair ourselves. because i guess it’s okay for you to look ridiculous as long as you don’t know it?

i’m quite sad about the idea of cutting any of it. i’m afraid if we cut off those curls, they won’t come back. i’m kinda totally in love with the curls. what if they are the source of your powers, like sampson? the funny thing is that, with all his talk, i’m sure that if i don’t cut your hair, you daddy won’t either. he gets too nervous with sharp objects around you after the nail clipper finger mauling incident when you were about a week old. i’ve clipped your nails ever since because he still has nightmares about your little bloody finger nubbin. of course, you slept though the entire thing.


oh buddy, i can’t wait to see what you do next. you are my joy and my science project and my entertainment and all my dreams come true.

all the love,
~ mama


4 responses to “18 months

  1. lolly says:

    i love you

  2. lmb says:

    can we have the emmit pictures a little bit bigger, please?

    jaq says: done and done.

  3. Justin says:

    darn, you jaq! Darn you to heck.

    You went and gave me a warm fuzzy feeling…

    And I had so much evil planned.

    p.s. may I suggest toddler mowhawk?

    I just know he’s gonna be totally punk rock.

  4. GJ says:

    …ahhhh. GJ has no illusions of who the E likes best. She watches his face as the parental units leave the room and his face takes on an unsually serious look, if only for 30 seconds and then he is back to his happy self. The other day, his main gal mom went into the kitchen from the dining room where E had been playing the piano with his dad. He immediately followed her to make sure she wasn’t leaving…and when he confirmed that she was there, he returned to the piano. When he visits w/o his parents, he goes to the fridge periodically and gazes at his parents beautiful faces. They are taped low on the fridge and he lays his face against the picture. Think there is a pretty mutual admiration society going on at the Silbert/Nigg home. …gotta love his excited greetings when I arrive on the scene though!

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