Ronan watching the cranes. It's more fun in real life. 1:30, 2.1 MB
One of the many awesome gifts we got when Ronan was born was a decorated house. (And clean sheets.) The persons who did this came over one night while Terry was in the hospital and made a better homecoming for her than I possibly could, since I was more likely to throw things around in frustration at our horrible hospital stay. Folded paper cranes hung from every light, and encouraging and funny sayings graced various places around the apartment. Food was given as well.
Well, we ate the food, read the sayings and left the cranes up. Ronan may never know about the sayings or the food but I’m beginning to believe that he’s going to be an ornithologist (Someone who studies birds, but I know I don’t have to tell you that.)
He loves the cranes! Loves them!! In a way I didn’t think was possible for a two-month-old. Our other mobiles do not hold his attention the same way. In fact, he seems to be frightened of one of them. (I’m a little frightened of it too, but that’s because it was so hard to put together, then it exploded when we turned it on the first time. That one is resting quietly in a grave somewhere while Ronan fears its replacement.)
But the cranes. Hours of joy! This week he discovered that his father can hit the cranes while sitting in the glider. This is all he wants to do now. Sit in the glider and watch the cranes swing.
It’s delightful to watch him focus on the cranes and laugh and coo and generally be very cute. The bottom crane is starting to rip because I’ve hit it so much. I’m trying to be more gentle with it to make hitting it last longer. (I just read that last sentence. It’s not as salacious as it sounds.)
Much like the crane, I’m finding that my right arm is not so happy with the repetitive movement. Saturday morning between 4-8 AM I swatted the poor crane in a vain attempt to get Ronan to go to sleep; he preferred to watch the cranes. The next day my arm was sore. (Just a bit.)
Later that night Terry wondered if he preferred the cranes to food. He has this incredibly cute way of craning (no pun intended) his neck around to make sure the cranes are still there. While he is eating.
What enthralls him so much? It could be the dark paper moving against the light beige walls. It could be the shapes of the cranes. Whatever it is, despite the sore arm, it’s really fun to watch him giggle. I’m in favor of anything that makes him laugh. I’m a little concerned that he’s so addicted, but that’s only a problem if he turns 21 and still spends hours watching paper crane mobiles swing in the wind.
Of course, this probably means I have to learn how to fold cranes. That poor crane isn’t going to make it for long.