It’s for the best that Avery’s month-i-versaries and eventual birthdays can never sneak up on me. I don’t want to incur what promises to be the formidable wrath of the youngest member of our family.
As I said yesterday, Cole’s lapped Avery in terms of physical development. Lynnette’s professional training causes her to reiterate time and again that this is how it generally goes with infant development: one set of skills – either physical or verbal – will emerge first. It just so happens to be that Avery’s made what I can only assume is a subconscious decision to hone her vocal prowess first.
She is many times louder than Cole. She also babbles much more frequently. If you’ve seen the video of Avery squawking during my Mets game and Cole’s nap, then you know. She’s pretty loud. She can still scream. When she’s hangry, she lets us – and the rest of the neighborhood -know about it. But it’s the incoherent nonsense she spouts randomly that cracks me up. It’s loud and the quality of the tone sounds abrasive, but if you look at her when she’s caught up in the middle of one her tirades, she doesn’t seem up set at all. Most times, she’s holding up a toy to her face and she’s just screaming at it at the top of her lungs. “How dare you not fit into my mouth!” she appears to yell. “Why don’t you taste like cantaloupe? she seems to shout. She’s seems pretty happy, honestly. But I think that I’ve been conditioned to process any loud and urgent noises emanating from the mouths of the females in this house as complaints. Myna birds. Cole and I live with 3 myna birds.
A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned to Lynnette that when Avery smiles, she bears a striking resemblance to Stewie, the maniacal baby from Family Guy. Lynnette laughed. “It’s just the shape of her face, especially when she smiles,” I followed. “That’s so mean!” Lynnette said. “Tell me she doesn’t” I said. She couldn’t. Both of Avery’s grandmothers reacted the same way. First they laughed, then they said it was kind of uncool of us to point out. Then they conceded that Avery kind of, sort of did look like Stewie. Her smile is something else. It really is infectious; I can’t watch her smile without smiling back.
Cole readily accepts a pacifier as means of settling down, but Avery hates them. She prefers her thumb (when she can manage to get it into her mouth). Best of all, though, she really, really loves clinging to a thick cloth. Yesterday during Cole’s physical therapy, Lynnette brought Avery into the bedroom where Abby and me were hanging out. “She’s fussy,” Lynnette said. She dropped Avery off next to me. She was cranky. I know what it looks like when she’s fighting her sleep (because Madison has spent all 8 years of her life fighting her sleep) but I didn’t have a burp cloth handy. Instead, I tossed Madison’s pajamas at her. You have to cover her face. This is part of the deal. She will then orient the cloth as she sees fit before falling asleep soundly. She tried to eat her Mets jersey today.
Like so many other things, I know this cannot last. But, oh, to live in a world where all it takes to appease my grouchy daughter is a piece of cloth. It’s great, especially since I have another daughter who is in constant negotiations for a cell phone.