He Doesn't Do R's

Mia, Mia, Taj, and Roan, on a bench in Slope Park

Mia and Taj have started saying Roan's name. They call him Ro Ro. Apparently they ask for him when he's not around. Their mom told me this story: when she asked who they were going to see that weekend, they both said in unison, Ro Ro?

Hearing the twins say Roan's name makes my heart just about melt, especially because Roan refuses to say his own name. He doesn't do R's. We go through the colors and he says them all, or tries, but when we get to red he shakes his head and says "no." He won't even roar like a lion anymore.

Jay has made me promise that I will not come up with anymore nicknames for Roan, but in light of this anti-R phase I think I need just one more. One that doesn't start with R.

Little Waves

Sunset Beach

Happy

On Friday evening Roan told me he was happy. We were in the car with Grandma and Grandpa Mac driving home from the beach. The sun was low in the sky and the backseat where I sat with Roan was full of the kind of soft yellow light you see in old photographs. Roan was in a sweatshirt and diaper, eating cheerios out of a cup with sand coated fingers. There was sand on his face, sand in his hair, and sand in the folds of his neck. His feet and shins were coated with sticky sand that was just starting to dry and get crusty.

Halfway through his cup of Cheerios and sand, Roan turned to me and put his filthy hand on my arm, looked me right in the eyes and said, "happy" as clear as a bell. For the first time. In the warm light he seemed to be glowing. Palm trees passed outside the window, and the sky was clear enough to see the mountains outlined in the distance. We looked only at each other for a moment. Then he said, "mama?" And I told him I was happy too. He pointed at my dad and said, "pa?" his word for Grandpa, and then pointed at my mom. Once everyone's happiness was confirmed, he went back to his Cheerios.

Roan asks for food when he's hungry, a drink when he's thirsty, books when he wants a story, and his bike when he wants to ride it. He reports on whether his food is hot or cold. He's never verbally expressed an abstract concept, like happiness. I've heard him say, "hap, hap, hap," when we're out in the backyard and he's reorganizing the patio furniture, or watering the plants, and I've wondered if he's telling me he's happy, but there's no way to know for sure. Here is what we know for sure: happiness to Roan is sandy skin from a day at the beach, Cheerios in a snack trap, a warm car full of people who love him, and not wearing any pants.

Usually when Roan says a new word I go out of my way to reinforce it, so he'll be sure to remember it and use it again. But not this time. Along with good health, happiness is what every parent most wants for their child. I don't want "happy" to be one of those words that he says just to please. I hope, like that sunlit afternoon in the car, that he only says it when he means it.

PS1 - MOMA

The Scene

The Wading Pool

The Balls

The Happiest Baby

Two

We were in San Antonio this weekend, and spent most of our time in the pool. Roan liked to climb out of the pool and jump back in. (Technically, he stepped back in - he doesn't know how to jump yet, but he is working on it. He bends his knees and squats down low, then straightens up fast and lifts up one leg). Before he "jumped" I would make him count: one, two, three.

When I said one, Roan said two. When I said two, Roan said two. When I said three, Roan said two. He's really good at saying two, and he likes to play to his strengths.

I admit to being proud of this. Roan isn't very verbal. I once watched him spend five minutes climbing up to reach his backpack, then another five minutes unzipping it. He spent another five minutes rummaging through it and only when he didn't find what he wanted did he carry it over to me and say "sna." He wanted a snack. He could have asked for one 15 minutes ago, but he'd rather climb a bench, wrestle with a zipper, and sort through toys and diapers than utter a single syllable. Certainly he will grow up to be one of those guys who never asks for directions.

He says other words, but not so clearly. Buh is bus, bike, or bird, depending on context. Daw is dog. Ta is cat. Hah is hot. These are words that only a parent would understand.

I like to ask him questions where the answer is two, just to hear him say it, over and over. It gives me hope for the future: someday we will count to the very high numbers, leaving the rest of the world behind to wash the dishes and worry if their children are hitting milestones on time.* Someday he will express something that can't be said with pointing, grunting, or super sonic head shaking.

Until then, we will work on making it to ten.

*shout out to David Berman

Cups

We were in San Antonio last weekend, visiting Grandma and Grandpa Lyons, (Roan's name for him is "Pa"), and Aunty Lisha and Uncle Bo. Though mostly we were visiting the pool. There were a lot of pool toys available, but all Roan ever needs are two plastic cups.