Red?

It was steamy hot again today. This evening a thunderstorm swept through and brought the good rich wet earth smells up and out of the ground. The smells were hanging in mid air when I emerged from the New Mom's group meeting at the hospital. Your father is at a Twins game with Grandpa Peter--or rather, they are at the stadium waiting for the game to resume (the very first rain delay in this stadium's history!). Luxy and I are all alone in the house tonight for the very first time since you were born. It is terrifically odd. I opened the windows so the good rich wet earth smells are getting into the house and I should be writing something horribly profound in my little red moleskin notebook but your absence makes me feel anxious and on edge. Like I have left the house without putting on my underwear or I have showed up to class without doing any prep work. So I'm compromising--I'm sitting in bed, drinking a Moose Drool (that's beer), looking very cool and collected, and writing--to you and about you.

But really, the point of today's post is this:

I got home from grading today, mouth a little dry from all the caffeine and sugar, little beads of sweat sprouting along my temples, computer bag slung over one shoulder, grocery bag with cookies for students in the other, car keys dangling from my lips, and your father--all casually--says "Thisbe said 'red' today." I put down my bags and put my keys in the bowl and then was like "WHAT?" The story goes like this:

You have a favorite book. Well, you have a few favorite books but this was your first favorite book. The book is creatively titled "COLORS." The first two pages feature an orange goldfish and a big slice of an orange. Daddy showed you these pages, noting the featured color in (I would guess) a patient and slightly distracted way. He turned to the next page (featuring a sporty car and a gigantic apple) and before he could say anything you said "red."

Or so he claims. I was skeptical.

So I sat you down in front of your favorite puzzle (which also happens to be your only puzzle). This puzzle features shape/color cutouts with knobs attached. You love to grab the knobs, pull the pieces from their resting places, and toss them in various directions or bang them together to make noises. Today I pulled the rectangle/red piece out of the puzzle. "What's this?" I said. You put the puzzle piece in your mouth. I looked at your father with raised "I told you so" eyebrows. Then I got up to fetch a lime bubbly water from the kitchen (lime bubbly water was really needed on a day like today) and as soon as I turned my back you said "red."

OK, maybe it sounded more like "reh." And the truth is, I still don't really believe it. You are quite a bit too young for first words. But the weird thing is, you make sounds all the time and NONE of them begin the the "r" sound. You can da-da-da until the cows come home but I have never heard you say "red" or its relatives "reh" "rah" and "rih." Yet I still don't quite believe.

The mythology and surmising has already begun though, let me tell you. I told Grandma Ricki on the phone today. "But that's an ABSTRACT term," she said, "that's AMAZING." Then we both meditated for some time on how we believe you have a very "red" personality. Passionate, stubborn, intense.

You'll have to do it a few more times before we'll truly be able to determine whether this is your first word. What's mostly been proven today is how hungry we are to understand you, to glimpse into that beautiful, luminous head of yours.

"Maybe she meant she had already finished the book, Peder. Maybe she was, like, checking it off her list. Read this. Read this. Read this. Maybe that's what she meant." Your father rolled his eyes at me. You give our lives meaning, Thiz, and we, in turn, love to create it around you.