Zephyr has a hand-me-down book euphemistically called My Quiet Book. You've seen the type- a cloth book that zips open to reveal pages of dexterity skills training- close the zipper, lace the shoes, snap the balloons, button the flowers. I remember enjoying one during my childhood. The book does keep Zephyr occupied for extended lengths of time, but not quietly. "Is this the purple flower? Where's the pink one! Snap on the red balloon for me, that one's too hard." The other morning he picked up the book and started to zip it open. "You like your quiet book, don't you?" I asked him. "It's nice to have a noisy one, too," he answered.
Last night we had Zephyr's buddy Conor for the evening. We trade "date nights" with his parents. (The dates are always something glamorous, like painting walls, shopping at Target, or eating take-out burritos on the couch while watching Six Feet Under.) Since it's getting dark too early to take them to the park, we've started going to the co-op when we have Conor. Jon watches the boys in the little play area while I stock up on herbs and other essentials, like salt and vinegar chips and natural soda (if it's from the co-op, it's gotta be healthy, right?) Zephyr and Conor were looking at bags of pet food. Zephyr was puzzled over Conor's rendition of the word "dog." He asked Conor, "is that how you say it in Spanish?" Jon stepped in, "Perro is the Spanish word for dog." Zephyr turned back to Conor, "It's perro, Conor!"
Three weeks ago we attended the Renaissance Faire. I volunteered in the Baby Care Tent sponsored by the Breastfeeding Task Force while Jon took Zephyr to buy kettle corn and see the attractions. They caught a show that made quite an impression on Zephyr. Clan Tinker juggled flaming torches, swallowed swords, and performed various other "danger tricks," accompanied by drums, accordions, and horns. (Zephyr probably doesn't remember, but we saw Clan Tinker perform when he was just a few months old, and still living in the northern part of the state.) Zephyr came home talking about Clan Tinker, and at least once a day, out of the blue, says "Clan Tinker. Those guys are funny." The last few days, he has begun referring to himself as Clan Tinker. And when he's Clan Tinker, he's Clan Tinker. Here is an exchange from breakfast this morning:
Mommy: "Zephyr, do you want any more of your pancakes?"
Zephyr: "Clan Tinker, do you want any more of your pancakes."
Mommy: "Clan Tinker, do you want any more of your pancakes?"
Zephyr (oops- I mean, Clan Tinker): "No."
During the writing of this blog, I have heard him say to Jon, "Clan Tinker is taking his socks off. Clan Tinker is playing with his train table. Dada! Clan Tinker is in the playroom!"
I can use it to my advantage. Just now, he was running by with a pink plastic egg from his room. I noticed his nose needed a wipe. Usually, he would dodge me. "Clan Tinker, let me wipe your nose," I held out the hankie. He hesitated, then smiled and approached; it is undoubtedly more fun to blow your nose when you're Clan Tinker.
It's not a bad nickname for him. With all his ranges of mood, sometimes he seems more like a clan than one person. He can go from wild giggles to inconsolable cries, like at dinner last night when he bit his tongue. And tinker he does. It is the job of toddlers to tinker- how else would he learn that he could use the Swiffer to get lost toys out from underneath the couch? Let's just hope that the "danger tricks" don't get out of hand. And while he and Dada practice juggling skills just about every day, we'll keep the swords high up in closets for now.
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