Cheeeeeeeeese

The Last of the Firsts and the Firsts of the Lasts

There are the firsts, and there are the lasts.

Those first steps, the wobbly Godzilla-like teeter totter through the room, are one day capped by the realization that those little steps are smoother and suddenly the tiny arms are down.

The first recognition of the bright sun-shiney color leads to a metamorphosis. It's "lellow" but then suddenly, it's not. "Yellow." The banana is yellow.

And so on.

The firsts are sweet. The lasts usually go unnoticed initially, but when you realize they've passed, there's a moment of quiet. It goes so fast.

There's something about a big age gap between kids that makes the firsts sweeter and the lasts quieter. I'm not sure what sort of magical spell causes it, but every time Mila does something for the first time, there's a definite pause as we all stop and soak it in. This is the last time a baby will do things for the first time and we know it. We know it's a last first and we know how fast it all goes. We're living on two sides of childhood, so we know.

Those lasts are so quiet. The baby stage is falling between our fingers like sand. The toddler years are going to be amazing, but that doesn't mean we can't look at the sand as it falls and take note of each grain with a bit of wistfulness.

No more crawling.

High chairs are stupid.

Bouncy seats are for babies.

She calls me "Mom."

Already.

Already Mila has replaced "Momma" with "Mom" because that's what she hears. Alexis left "Momma" behind a while ago and now Mila hears "Mom mom mom mom mom" all day every day. So she mimics it.

There are only two ways to fix this situation. Either Alexis is going to have to cancel out that last and go back to calling me "Momma," or Mila is going to have to learn that the one syllable alternative will simply not be tolerated from her.

Either way, Mila can pile up those lasts, but I want that one back.

Will Trade Smiles for Bruises

In news that is about as shocking as the headlines "Water is Wet" and "Mornings are Stupid," Mila doesn't think I'm funny. I mean, other people's kids think I'm hilarious, but she stares at me like I have seven heads any time I'm holding the camera and try to earn a smile from her.

It's amazing, really. I have this whole thing I do when I'm photographing other people's kids. It works 99.9% of the time. My own kids, though? NOOOOPE. Neither one of them think I'm funny. The good news is that Alexis has discovered that making a cute face for pictures benefits her because then she has a cute picture of herself. Mila is more interested in eating dirt than she is what she looks like.

So.

That's why I have been trying all kinds of random and very weird things.

Alexis was the first to figure out the trick that is currently buying me a few Mila smiles. I believe it was initially an accident, but then it turned very purposeful.

Mila thinks violence is HILARIOUS.

Violence aimed at yourself is even better.

So if you've been wondering why Mila's hand is by her head in nearly every photo of her, there is an explanation. If I hit myself in the head and say "OW!" over and over again, Mila will copy me. And smile. Over and over and over as she hits herself.

This little trick is going to wear out in a week or two. I don't know what will be the next thing that makes Mila smile or pictures, but I hope it doesn't require that I knock myself unconscious.

It's probably going to require that I knock myself unconscious.