Sunday Slivers, 7/18/10

sI had thought about beginning this post with a minor whine about a week spent nursing a vicious cold that affected everyone except Sava, but a couple of days ago I started reading Willa Cather's /My Antonia./ Now I am embarrassed I ever thought about complaining. Life on the prairie in Nebraska in the early pioneer days surely wins all hardship points over the cushioned existence here in Pleasantville, where our greatest concerns amount--no less, and no more--to how much each child ate and slept each day.
Since I moved in a bit of a haze all week until yesterday, all pictures in this post have been taken in the last twenty-four hours, with the exception of this one, featuring little man on his big-boy bike in Cuesta Park last Sunday--


Every now and again he decides that he wants to try riding without the helping wheels, which event always unfolds in the same manner: 1. we tell him that if we take the helping wheels off, he will have to learn how to ride the two-wheel bike; 2. he replies that maybe he already knows how to and just wants to try; 3.we explain again that he will not wake up magically one morning knowing how to ride the bike, but he will have to learn;  4. he insists again that he wants to try; 5. Rado spends five minutes taking the helping wheels off and then, 6. with one of us holding him, he spends anywhere between thirty and sixty seconds trying to ride the bike; 7. then he declares he is done, and asks for the helping wheels to be installed back on; one of these days--maybe when he is ten--we hope his little brain will finally grasp that this is a learning process and not a milestone that every person reaches as a sort of birthright; maybe he will...or maybe he won't; in the meantime, thank goodness for helping wheels.


Unlike the prairie, where a failed harvest meant starvation all winter, over here the worst that could happen if one of our pots of vegetables fails is that we would have to walk five minutes to Whole Foods or Trader Joe's and buy bright shining organic produce flown all the way from some place like Chile; still, whenever our pots do deliver, we feel inexpressible joy and satisfaction; check out those better boy to-mA-tohs ripening on our deck:

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In other news, Raya does not crawl yet but she desperately--oh desperately--wants to. The crib is becoming a dangerous place. She regularly pulls herself up to sitting position by herself--

 

And she is getting really good about waking up quietly and ever so stealthily turning around in the little inclined pen inside the crib and grabbing one or more of the pieces of clothing which her careless mother deposits there when she does not feel like putting them away; her grin upon being discovered is priceless--

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If there is one thing I wish I had a lot of time to write about it is what an astonishing job Sava has done of being a big brother in the last nine months; thanks to the constant presence of grandparents who always make him feel important, but also thanks to his own exquisitely sensitive nature, he has been gracious, loving, and kind to Raya beyond anything we ever hoped for. While playing with her on his bed today, he reached over at one point and ever so gently kissed her on the cheek, with such spontaneous tenderness and genuine affection that it almost brought tears to my eyes; such moments happen often when he finds her quiet and receptive to his 'advances,' which is not too often lately, because she is growing ever more curious and independent; even so, he can often be seen waiting around for a chance to touch her, and he delights in her adoration of him, which is often expressed with bubbly laughter--

If you read this some day, Sava, we would like you to know how proud and amazed we are with you. This is how Raya feels when she is next to you:

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And as for pumpkin herself, someone please give her the ability to crawl, because the girl is in perfect agony; when sitting, she wants to be up on her feet and jumping; when standing, she wants to sit or roll; when someone holds her, she makes sudden forward lunging motions to get wherever to touch whatever; if she could crawl, we'd have to hire a helper to follow her around, but at least she would be free to do whatever her little soul desires--

We are her slaves right now, and almost nothing pleases; she always wants to be doing something other than what we have to offer.
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Her feet are finally almost long enough to reach the floor when she sits on Sava's much beloved push car, which is becoming her favorite as well--

And when everything else fails, our secret weapon to keep her entertained for all of about ten minutes is Sava's box of markers, which she loves to thrash and chew--

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In Sava's World, the manic obsession with cars continues. It is clear by now that cars will be Sava's vehicle to the world of reading--pun very much intended. Now that he knows the emblems of all cars on the Northern American continent (including such oddballs as Alfa Romeo, parked in a neighbor's driveway), he is learning to recognize the kind of Acura, Lincoln, Mazda, etc. by reading the first couple of letters of the car's name and matching those with the dozens of cars in the memory bank of his little head; he recognizes flawlessly things like Toyota Camry or Honda Fit, but is also becoming a whiz about far less common cars, such as Nissan Frontier or Porsche Carrera. It is truly astounding to ride in the car with him, and to listen to him rattling off the name of every car in front of us, next to us, and sometimes even behind us (he craning his neck while asking me to double-check in the rear-view mirror).
One of his favorite reading materials is nothing less than the car edition of Consumer Reports, generously sent to us by uncle Bob, which he spent his "quiet time" today reading, often with the aid of a magnifying glass (lest he should miss some of the finer details about the cars!)--

And I just had to record this video, which perfectly illustrates his uncanny ability to synthesize his recognition of car shapes and emblems with his knowledge of letters and his emerging ability to read syllables; the kid does not know how to read yet, but he sure knows how to make the best of what he does know (looking at Consumer Reports again)--

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And since Rado is pretty sick now that the rest of us are feeling tolerably well, the most we could do today was a leisurely stroll to the little neighborhood park where Sava got a chance to show us how he "already know(s)" how to play soccer and therefore does not need to be taught to do it; of course, we discussed every car on the way there--