Birth Of A Sandwich

Thursday, January 7, 2010

2:44 a.m.

Sam woke up late, early this morning. Sometimes he's been sleeping through the night lately, but not usually. Not yet. He usually wakes up around 1:30 a.m. and demands a little food to help him back to sleep. Tonight he woke up an hour later than that. I grabbed a bottle, went into his room, and switched on the dim closet lamp, like usual. He was up on all fours in his crib, as he sometimes is these days, looking like he might crawl but not quite doing it. He looked at me with some confusion, his eyes not yet used to the light. I said, "Hi, Sam," like I always do, day or night. He said nothing.

I picked him up and brought him over to our chair, positioned him on the boppy and started to feed him. Before very long, he was dozing off again, using my left bicep as his pillow. He does this all the time. Tonight, though, he started grinning, as his eyes darted into REM sleep behind his eyelids. Little grins, brief grins, then slightly longer. Then a big, wide smile — not quite his huge, gigantic, explosive smile, but a very big one with his mouth open. Once that subsided, more grins.

What do you dream about, Sam? Are you chattering away with your baby friends? Eating your Stage 2 carrots while Mama cheers you on? Dancing away while Papa sings to you? Horsing around with your grandparents? Are you, in fact, back in the womb? Or do you, like Fezzik, dream of large women?

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

First night in his crib and in his own room

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

First Song

Sam has written his first song. Sort of a punk tune, actually. It is about how his whole life is completely terrible, how he's covered in misery, and how nobody could possibly understand how immeasurably awful he feels right now. And he sings this song about 80 times a day, in part because he doesn't know any other songs.

When not performing, he actually comes across as a quite reasonable and likable fellow, not unlike Frank Zappa or Marilyn Manson. But when he's performing? Pure rage.

I also am working on a new song. It's about how you can't take a box of 600 baby-wipes for granted. You think it's always going to be there for you, but then it's gone, in the blink of an eye, and you realize that you never really took the time to appreciate it while it was there.