Now that the weather is getting nicer, we the parents are very excited about taking advantage of the dozens of trails near us at DeSoto State Park. That means Baby Jack gets to go hiking with us. Fortunately, he actually enjoys hiking, even if he’s asleep for most of the time.
I should point out these aren’t simply 20 minutes walks I’m referring to. I’m talking 3 and a half mile hikes- not just easy, flat trails. When he is awake during his hikes, he loves to look up at the blue sky, which matches his eyes. Conveniently, we haven’t had to change his diapers during these journeys. But of course, we feed and change him right before we embark into the forest, to make things easier for Jack and for us.
I don’t know if it’s normal for a 3 month old to enjoy hiking. But I guess now it’s normal to him. I help create his reality like that. It’s a classic case of “nature vs. nurture”. I am nurturing him to appreciate nature. And he’s buying it.
The first thing I do during each of Jack’s playtimes is to carry him into the bathroom and let him see the two of us in the mirror. He looks down at the counter, then up at himself, then he looks up to my face. When he sees me, he smiles. Granted, he must have the memory of a goldfish right now because then he ultimately repeats this process about four or five times before getting bored and wanting me to carry him to a different room for new scenery.
It’s a fun game for me- to try to get my 3 month old son to smile. Sometimes I get him to smile without even trying to. Recently he needed a nap really bad. I knew this, but he did not. I had him wrapped up in a blanket and was carrying him around, trying to get him to stop crying and fall asleep.
I took a break by sitting him sort of upright in the papasan chair facing me while I sat on the stool for the papasan. In a thoughtless attempt to ease him to sleep, I began singing the Christmas song “Silver Bells”, but Robert Goulet style. He stopped crying and started smiling at me. Then a few minutes later, he was asleep. Needless to say, I’ve sang a lot of songs Robert Goulet style since then. If it works, it works.
Whenever I see a baby boy, I usually think of a man between the ages of 45 and 65 years old, because while taking a child psychology class in college at Liberty University, I remember seeing side-by-side photographs in my textbook which compared a baby boy and a middle-aged man. The example showed how as a man grows older, he begins to look more like he did as a baby. (Baby girls don’t look like middle-aged women, though.)
Something that has become pretty apparent this week is that Jack (my son) and Jack (my dad) have a special connection. Baby Jack gravitates his attention towards my dad if he is in the room. Not only is he fascinated by hearing his voice, but he also will get the biggest smile anytime my dad looks his way. And as these YouTube clips below will show, a certain side of Jack’s behavior only opens up for my dad. Their relationship is unmatched even to my own relationship with my son, therefore convincing me there really is something to this “baby boy/middle-aged man” deal. I think it’s really cool to see the dynamics between Baby Jack and his Pappy.
On a less sentimental note, Jack reminds me of things other than just a middle-aged man. When my wife is holding him on her shoulder, he often reminds me of a Glow Worm. And when when gets confused, he looks like Mac the alien from the mostly forgotten movie Mac and Me. And when he’s passionate about eating, he makes this grunting sound that is so similar to Mr. Peepers from Saturday Night Live: “Bah-bah-bah-bah!”
Eventually, he will make me think more of a little boy. For right now, what I am seeing in him are his attempts at being human: like his attempts to walk, his attempts to talk, and even his attempts to show affection. Whatever he reminds me of at any certain point in the day, something I am aware of is how adorable he is. Whether he reminds me of a pet, an alien, or a stuffed animal from the Eighties, I just know I can’t imagine life without him.
Things that Baby Jack reminds me of right now:
Middle-aged men, like the magnificent Phil Collins
Mac the alien
Mr. Peepers (sounds like while eating, but doesn't look like)
Ten weeks ago Jack was born a big healthy baby (8 lbs. 6 oz. and 20.5 inches); and now, ten weeks later, he continues to grow as a big healthy baby. I don’t mean “big” as in the sumo wrestler sense, but knowing that our friend Paula Zehnder’s 5 month old son weighs 13.5 pounds, it puts things into perspective since Jack is half that age. I still envision Jack being slightly small for his size as he gets older, since it appears that’s what’s in his genes (the tallest males on both sides of our family are around 5′ 11″, for the most part). But I wonder in the back of my mind if Jack is a baby version of Will Ferrell.
I just realized today that I haven’t been referring to him as “Baby Jack” as much these days. As he grows in size, he also obviously grows in maturity. He knows when someone is smiling at him, because he smiles back. And though his voice sounds like a cat, Jack has begun exploring his vocal range- especially at 9 AM and 9 PM everyday. He spoke his first sentence last week: “I want a robot.” I like to believe he actually meant to say that and that he knew what it meant.
Jack’s eyes are still blue. My wife looked it up online, and because of her dad having blue eyes, there’s a 12% chance of Jack having blue eyes. We won’t know for sure until he is around six months old. Until then, I’ll assume he’s a brown eyed boy.
The weekend after we found out we were having a baby, we spent 45 bucks on “cute clothes” for Jack at a Carter’s outlet. One of the outfits purchased that day says, “Mommy’s Little Monster”. I have a feeling that this monster-themed attire was designed with the idea in mind of “oh, he’s such a messy little boy… he’s always gettin’ into everything…” . But for me, I look at this whole “boys are little monsters” as a literal thing: Boys are actually a wonderful representation of what classic monsters are in my mind.
So far, having a baby boy has totally met all my expectations as far as his lack of politeness (passing gas while people hold him for the first time) and becoming the baby version of an angry, drunk, and ranting Jack Nicholson the moment he realizes he’s hungry and we didn’t already have a bottle ready for him right that second. Not to mention the percentage of milk that comes out of his mouth as opposed to the amount that goes in and stays in. But I once was (and in a sense, always will be) a boy. Baby Jack is indeed a friendly, little beast. He really sounds and acts like a literal monster.
My dad Jack and my son Jack
When he’s sleeping, he often makes this “ghurr, ghurr” sound. And sometimes instead, the noise sounds more like the Smoke Monster from Lost. It doesn’t help that he can’t actually speak yet. How could I not be reminded of a monster when I see a little baby (but big for his age… he looks like he should be six months old) flailing his arms around during pretty much all of his waking hours who makes noises like that scary beast thing (R.O.U.S.) on The Princess Bride? He’s a monster all right. But a loveable one.
Jack is a little bit like the TV version of The Incredible Hulk mixed with Jabba the Hut and a Mongolian warrior. But the most adorable and cuddly version you could imagine. I love having my own little monster around the house. I will teach him everything I know. And that, friends, is the truly scary part about this whole “monster” thing.
The picture above was taken by Joe Hendricks Photography:
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