Avery spent her 17th month-day running between her room and the living room as she usually does. She’s a bowling ball with the force of the Juggernaut but the stature of Puck. She rumbles around the play area seemingly like a runaway truck that’s a single tire blowout away from crashing into the side of the couch or baby gate. It’s a simple pleasure to watch her “sprint” from the twins’ room when Lynnette asks the house “Who’s hungry?”
She’s pictured here engaged in one of her favorite activities. She loves being tilted upside down. When we pull her back up, she jerks her head back immediately. She screams with laughter if there’s somebody waiting to tickle her wattle. It’s her weak spot, just like big sister.
Avery’s special skill, however, is crying. In North Shore, an ’80s surfing movie set on Oahu’s north shore, Chandler – the mentor figure to Rick Kane’s protagonist – explains to Rick that just as Eskimos have hundreds of different words for snow and ice conditions, ancient Hawaiians have just as many words for surf and ocean conditions. I don’t know if that’s technically true, but it makes sense. Both cultures literally revolved around those respective forces of nature.
Similarly, Avery has just as many fake cries. She has the “I’m not getting my way” cry which she belts out while kneeling in a dramatic fashion like some of the characters in the crash scene in the pilot of Lost. There’s also the “I’m hungry, you guys!” cry which is lower in pitch but more consistent. I would guess this is what actual hunger sounds. She’s also got the “Take pity on me and carry me around the house for a while” cry which is a guilt trip rolled up in a farcical combination of physical histrionics. She rolls all over the floor. She kicks both legs. She pushes herself upwards with her feet. Yet this isn’t even the best of her moves. Nope.
Avery is a tubby, funny hero, much like Moana‘s Maui. She took transforms into a huge bird of prey – except she descends on Cole to steal his toy. Instead of scurrying off, though, she waits around for Cole to start crying. Then, she opens her mouth wide and fake cries – it sounds more like a police siren – to mock him. This instinct is so ingrained in her personality that she did it by accident on Saturday. We were eating lunch at Wendy’s and another child began crying. Without thinking, Avery’s jaw dropped and she let out her whooping mock cry. It only lasted for a few moments, however, as she turned her head to find Cole wasn’t the one crying. She closed her mouth and resumed eating.