I must admit that I’m nearly a month late in paying tribute to my wonderful Graham Henry, who turned the big T-W-O on New Year’s Eve. January 2011 has been a very busy month, and I’ve been neglectful in my blogging duties. But as I always say: Better late than never! I simply cannot let Graham’s wonderful 1’s go by without calling attention to a few of his most memorable moments.
In 2010, Graham transformed before our very eyes from a babbling baby into an intelligent child who thinks and speaks for himself. At two years old, we still don’t understand much of what he says, but it’s clear that HE knows, and he speaks with purpose and passion. Most of his chattering is funny and cute, intelligible or not. But there are a few words that he’s taken hold of that we rather wish he would forget.
For example, “frog” and “truck” are two words that Graham has come to love, but as a one year old, he struggled greatly with pronunciation, and these two words came out all wrong. I’m sure you can guess what I mean. Start with “frog,” end with “truck” and leave the “r” out of it. Yeah, you got it. And unfortunately, Graham came up with about a hundred reasons to say “frog” or “truck” extremely loudly every day for several months. The situation became so dire, in fact, that we began avoiding church, dodging neighbors and generally hiding out at home with shades drawn. Just in time for his second birthday, though, Graham graduated to “fog” for “frog” and “shruck” for “truck.” Not perfect, but presentable, and we feel nearly confident enough to emerge back into society.
Graham’s expanding vocabulary constantly reminds us that he’s growing up and will soon be ready for preschool. But he hasn’t let go of all his baby ways, and I for one am thankful. I’m not ready for him to stop sucking his thumb—the telltale sign that he is sleepy and “over it” for the day. I’m not ready for him to abandon “Pig Pig,” his favorite stuffed animal, which he holds so tightly that all the stuffing has been squeezed out of the poor pig’s neck. I’m also not ready to move Graham into a big-boy bed. Not yet. He’s happy as a clam in his little white crib, and I still love reaching over the rails to lift him into my arms every morning.
I’d be fooling myself if I didn’t admit a little sadness on the day that Grammy turned two. I delight in his growth and development, of course, but he was so sweet as a one year old, and it’s hard to say goodbye to such a joyful year. His chubby baby cheeks, playful giggles and wobbly first steps will live on in my memory forever. Yes, this little boy will always be my baby, no matter how tall and fast and clever he grows. He’ll always be my beautiful Golden Graham.