Oliver - Year 1

One year ago, I introduced this little guy. He entered the world and transformed our lives dramatically. In addition to snips, snails, and puppy dog tails, Oliver is composed of a healthy amount of smiles, curiosity, and baby-boy-banter. For now, he invests almost his entire relationship capital in Mom. She provides superior snuggles and exceptional entertainment. Dad can hardly compete for the boy’s attention. Oliver is a bona fide momma’s boy. For now, I am fine with that. Dad will eventually earn his admiration with elaborate schemes related to football, fishing, basketball, guitar, golf, barbeques, gaming… all the things boys have fun with. I pretty much have a monopoly on boyish fun in our home. Enjoy it while you can Mom.

So in honor of his first year, I am going to provide a little glimpse into the wonderful world of Oliver. Maybe years from now he can look back at this and see just how awesome life was in his first 12 months. Or he could readily show this to a future therapist and pin point the roots of his deep seeded issues. Either way, this will be helpful, if not enjoyable.

Dad’s Favorite Proud Father Moment:

Life is tough for a little boy living in a neighborhood of little girls. Mom and Dad’s friends have a plethora of daughters with an impressive collection of princess toys. Therefore, game nights aren’t always the most ideal environment for a developing boy. Sure… it makes me get nervous from time to time; nightmares of brony fandoms are enough to unnerve even the most confident fathers. At our most recent game night, I sat that the card table and hopelessly watched Oliver bounce from Dora the Explorer, to Queen Elsa, then back to Dora. In silence I pleaded, “Let it go! Let it go!” But my quiet petitions went unnoticed. It seemed there was little I could do to stop his interest.

Feeling defeated, I returned my focus to the game at hand. A few hands later I turned back to check up on Oliver. With delightful surprise, I found that he had entirely abandoned Queen Elsa, Dora the explorer, and the entire pink brigade. Instead, something far more suitable wound up in his sausage-like grasp: a football. With more vigor and excitement than ever, Ollie threw, chased, and gripped that football all over the room. Grandiose visions of tail backs and linebackers quickly trampled over the Polly-pockets and Barbie dolls. With my pride restored, I confidently turned back to our card game. In my view, finding that small football amongst the tide of glitter and pink was comparable to finding a single needle in a haystack. He had found the one toy in the house with masculine appeal, and he refused to leave it the rest of the night.

Oliver’s Favorite Food:

We are starting to see some of Oliver’s particular tastes develop. Aside from the baby staples, he loves noodles, bananas, biscuits, and avocados. But above all things, Oliver goes crazy over ice cream. The boy transforms whenever he is around the stuff. If he even suspects that one of us is eating ice cream, he will politely sign, “want…please” and gesture towards our bowl. If we delay our response to his cordial request, he will swap polite signs for frantic grunts and disapproving growls. We eventually acquiesce to his demands and offer him a few small spoons, but we do so with great apprehension. We know that we are about to start a process as predictable as Bruce Banner’s reaction to anger.

When given the opportunity, Oliver will zealously attack the vanilla morsel, swallow it down, and passionately beg for more. He completes this entire cycle, each time faster and more vigorous than the last. In short time, he will exhaust our dessert supply, leaving everyone unsatisfied. Mom and Dad only get half of their promised portions, and Oliver has to deal with the emotional roller coaster of having it all…and then having nothing. The result: one inconsolable little boy.

For now, our dessert strategy has changed. Ice cream rarely makes an appearance prior to bedtime. For all Oliver knows, our family ice cream consumption levels have plummeted. But while he sleeps undisturbed and unaware, Mom and I rejoice in world full of sherbets, soft-serves, and shakes. I remain hopeful that one day we can enjoy ice cream together in a more responsible and disciplined manner.

Oliver’s Favorite Toys:

The date is December 25^th 2014. Crumpled wrapping paper, empty boxes, and ruffled ribbons covered the living room floor. Mom and I enthusiastically helped Oliver unwrap his gifts from under the tree. First some books, then a little football, and finally a handsome John Deere tractor toy. By all appearances, Santa had nailed Oliver’s first Christmas in every measure. What else could an eight-month old want?

It didn’t take long to see Santa seriously miscalculated Oliver’s interests. Before we lose all confidence in Saint Nick, let’s cut the jolly man a break! Kara and I thought he did pretty well for his first attempt! Who would have guessed that rubber dog toys and an expensive Martin guitar were on the Oliver’s wish list? One is far beneath his mental capacity, and the other is far beyond his rudimentary motor skills. Who would have imagined a diapered toddler would have such diverse expectations? Santa will likely attribute 2014 to a simple mix-up. Better luck next year big guy.

Oliver will play with just about anything. However, his interest in toys is limited and he will move on from one thing to the next without much thought. However, he possesses a special fondness for all of Chief’s toys and Dad’s expensive guitar. Thankfully, Chief is kind enough to share with Ollie. Chief has Wookie-like strength that can pull the arms right out of my own sockets. Yet, he is aware enough to play gentle versions of tug-of-war and keep away with Oliver on the living room floor. Does Chief get annoyed when his chew toys literally get swiped from under his nose? You bet he does! The mixture of surprise and disappointment in Chief’s expression tells me so. But at least he shares. Dad is not as accommodating when it comes to his guitar. Oliver only gets a few drum beats with his sticky hands before Dad nervously snatches it away. Somehow I get the feeling that Dad’s future attempts at teaching the concept of sharing might not be very effective.

Oliver’s First Year First’s:

Naturally, year one consists of a number of life first’s for a baby. If you don’t count sign language (he knows how to signal please, want, milk, and food), Oliver already knows a few simple words. If you pay close attention to what he says between the typical baby babble , you can catch words like “Dada”, “Chief” (pronounced as “Kief”), and “Mama” (formerly pronounced “Gaga”). Everything else at this point is an assortment of grunts, coos, and giggles.

While he is not yet walking a lot, Oliver has already taken his first steps. We know he can walk. We have seen him take up to five steps with sufficient confidence. He just prefers not to walk right now. We all know that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. However Oliver sees things differently. In his mind, the shortest distance between two points is a two-step dance and less-than-graceful forward nosedive. Walking is a work in progress and he will get the hang of it. His unique navigation style hasn’t limited him all that much. He is still adept at pulling out pots and pans, tugging on chords, and occasionally knocking over the garbage. Chief has taken the blame more than once for Oliver’s dumpster diving habits. Sometimes Mom and I must act the part of NFL referees and convene together to make sure we make the right call. Unfortunately for Chief, our house is not equipped with instant replay and high-definition cameras. He has seen his fair share of blown calls.

There are really too many firsts to count. First picnics, first fireworks, first Halloween, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, and first New Year. Mom and I have had a bunch of new firsts as well. This is the first time that we have celebrated such small and simple things with so much happiness. This is the first time we have witnessed someone grow and learn with great eagerness. This is the first time that we have experienced the unique love a parent can have for a child. We love our little Oliver. With every passing day, we love him more and more. I am impressed at how exponentially quick my love can grow for another person.

In truth, there is not a whole lot behind the scenes when it comes to Oliver. Of course there are the diapers and the poor sleeping habits. But what makes Oliver so lovable are the quirks and attributes that make their way to the surface. He is a happy and eccentric little fellow. Oliver’s contagious and warming smile has earned compliments and adoration from family, friends, and even strangers. He is eager to pass along his sunshine to anybody. If you sit behind us at church or at the theater, you will have his undivided and engaging attention. If you pass us at the grocery store, your eye will catch a charming grin and giggle. Oliver's good nature is indiscriminate and inviting to all that he meets.

I am excited that this forms a part of his personality and character. I hope that he works hard to maintain those virtues as he grows and develops. There exists a great need for people who can uplift and inspire others. In just one year, he has already done that for his dad, his mom, and a number of others. What a great start to a new life!

Congratulations on your first year Oliver!

May this be the first of many Happy Birthday’s!