Sunday, August 5, 2012


Well, I finally broke down and got Keane a real little-boy haircut. And after seeing how absurdly cute he is now that the shape of his head is evident...I don't know why I waited so long. Of course, the snipping of the locks is a reminder of the fact that he is blowing through toddlerhood, trying his darnedest to catch up to his big brother in just about every respect except for still wanting to be cuddled and snuggled like a baby...but that's so evident in other ways that I've come to terms with the fact that the hair is not what I'm trying to hold onto. The thing about the haircut that I didn't antipicate was that he would come out of it looking not only six months older but 95% identical-looking to the dink at that age. It's unreal. Of course I love how they look-- their little faces have the most pleasing features to my senses that sometimes it's hard to look away--but sometimes I just think come on, can't J and I produce any other combination of traits?! When you're pregnant, and you try to envision what your future child will look like, it seems the possibilities are endless. And then the child is born, or in my case born twice, and suddenly all the mystery disappears...and you realize there was no mystery at all in the first place. The possibilities are not endless. Clearly, this is what children produced by the two of us will look like. A little of me, a little of you, blond hair, light eyes, fair skin...don't know why we'd ever imagine it any other way! Here's the comparison:
Declan around 19 months

Keane at 19 months, post-haircut
One indication of K trying to grow up too fast (for me) is that he's become obsessed with babies, and recognizes them as something separate from himself. He loves reading his books about babies, pointing out babies in public, and when you sing Rock-a-Bye Baby, he pulls his little hands to his chest and sways back and forth like he's rocking his own baby. So finally, after he twice tried to steal a little girl's baby doll at church (and screamed MINE! while pointing to it obnoxiously), I realized it was time for him to have his very own. It took a little effort to find one that wasn't dripping with pink frills, but I finally did--a little soft-bodied/hard-headed blue and orange thing with a hat. I showed it to Keane in the backseat of the car when we got home one day. I said, "Look, Keane, it's your baby doll!" He immediately kicked his legs and reached out for it, almost panting. Then I freed him from his carseat and stood him in the driveway, holding his very own baby at last. And then I stood there, frozen, while he kissed his baby on the mouth about 27 times in a row, exclaiming "Baby!" every 2-3 kisses. And I mean wet, open-mouth, I-love-you kind of kisses...I'm still kicking myself for not having the video camera ready for this significant event! Keane has finally found a much-needed outlet for sharing his love. And he's learned already at this tender age that babies are meant for kissing. Can't complain about that.