Devon here. Much going on. To quote Inigo in The Princess Bride: “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” New digs, new school, new home, closer to family. It’s all good.
Easily the twinkling light of our life is our baby sister, Téa. When she finds you entertaining or potentially helpful, she will stop you dead in your tracks with a flash of her thousand-watt five-toothed smile. In the blink of an eye, she will morph to extremely pissed off if you fall short of expectations. Like I-am-woman-hear-me-roar pissed off. A typical scene: Téa playing with remote control. Cooper spots remote, heads toward it (Coop prefers others to source interesting playthings). Out of the corner of her eye (Téa has amazing peripheral vision), Téa spots him and adopts a defender’s posture, segueing from a sweet cooing sound, to a worried/warning, humming/buzzing noise, to an angry-talking noise, resolving into a crescendo blood-curdling scream if the predator continues his imprudent approach. Predator thwarted.
At this writing, Téa is all about moving. Her preferred method involves an adult partner: taking their fingers she inclines her frame forward 45 degrees to present a favorable wind profile. The host (i.e., person attached to the fingers) must shelve any thoughts of slowing down or stopping to rest; the aggressive incline makes that a non-option. She is what you call ‘a go-getter’, and if you fatigue – she gives you a wink. (No joke; she can wink. Combine that with the 5-toothed grin and you may begin to grasp what Coop and I are up against).
Although Téa has changed dramatically in the last year, from small, immobile, gurgling lump to Zen mistress, Coop and I remain much the same. Indeed, Cooper often wishes things really were the same. He waxes nostalgic for his younger days and can spend hours reviewing his baby photos. Among his favorite times: the 2’s. He recalls fondly of the lack of pressure and the open structure of bygone days. He felt little responsibility then. Things now weigh heavily. Getting up. Dressing. Brushing teeth. Eating multiple food groups. If he could retreat into the crib, or even the womb – Cooper would be ok with that.
I continue to verbalize points with measured emphasis. I find conventional punctuation lacking, and generally require three exclamation points at the end of each sentence. My 6:15AM greeting to my sleeping parents: “I WOKE UP AND PUT ON MY CLOTHES!!!!” After dinner, “I LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS!!!” On a random Tuesday, “A BOTTLE OF RED WINE SPILLED ON THE CARPET!!!” To increase impact, I accompany my verbal communications with arm-waving, finger-pointing and emphatic facial expressions. My parents are in marketing; I know we live in an attention-starved world. I do all I can to make my messages cut through the clutter so the recipient can act swiftly. I don’t waste time with trivia so EVERY TOPIC I BRING UP IS IMPORTANT!!!
Although our developmental ramp may not be as steep as Téa’s, it’s not plateauing either. For example, we are quickly closing on our father’s crown as technology master. I can turn on our TV – a feat yet unachieved by my Mom. Operating TiVo is intuitive, and indeed I use the TiVo metaphor as a broader life operating platform. Recently we were drawing rockets with Mom (a distinct second choice rocket-drawer relative to Dad, who knows that rockets have multiple stages and distinct nozzles with orange fire shooting out of them), and I needed to find a blue pen to accurately recreate my vision of the space capsule. Problem: how to ensure she doesn’t continue drawing without me? Simple. I asked her to “Pause.” Seems Mom doesn’t know how to pause. She’s pretty much a “Play” or “Stop” gal; very VCR-like. She’s easily distracted if asked to pause for a second and will immediately drift off to another activity. Pausing is now an area that she is ‘working on.’ I have also tried to ‘reboot’ her when she was cranky – without success. Coop and I now have a Mac, so we have also tried to ‘undo’ certain unfortunate events (red wine on carpet, permanent marker on floor and varied furniture pieces).
Cooper is also making development strides. Currently, he is working hard on truth-telling. Truth – in his perspective – is relative, fairly malleable concept. An example: candy falls from piñata at recent birthday party. Candy is taken home and put in a “special baggie” for later. The next morning: “special baggie” is found full of candy wrapper remnants. Actual candy is missing. Asked if he ate the candy, Cooper is firm: “No!” Question is reframed: “Where did the candy go?” Cooper shrugs, “I don’t know.” (Cooper is unfazed by redundant leading questions). Question reframed again: “How did the candy taste?” Cooper grins, “YUMMY!” A second example (on Halloween, after Cooper ‘learned his lesson’): we are told we can only eat one piece of candy after dinner. Well before dinner, Daddy finds two wrappers in Cooper’s Halloween bag. “Cooper, why the empty wrappers?” Cooper responds with confidence, “I didn’t eat them.” Dad’s tone is deep, volume rising, “Cooper?!” Cooper crumbles, immediately. “It was an accident! They feel into my mouth.” Did you even see that coming?!!! Pure genius. When Cooper speaks, I take copious mental notes.
Another domain of progress: Girls. Cooper is often overheard using the phrase, “She’s a hottie,” which typically refers to girls with “down-hair” (i.e., long hair). I prefer the opposite, finding “up-hair” (i.e., short hair) to be more attractive. It is nice that we won’t have to compete with each other when it comes time to get the ladies. (Although this is a non-issue as we currently face other challenges such as a penchant for working ‘poo-poo’ and ‘pee-pee’ into everyday conversation. Girls in our cohort don’t seem to be impressed by our vocabulary, or intrigued by our choice of conversation topics).
School-wise, we have graduated from Stanford to Montessori, where we are carving out our career trajectories and working on our vitaes:
Devon Thomas Johnston Smith. 2002-present. Method actor, with strength in ending all communications with emphasis. Career aspirations: hardware engineer, with heavy focus on disassembly. Game inventor: holding patent on “Ceiling fan baseball.’
Cooper David Aaker Smith. 2002-present. Critical deal negotiator. Ability to quickly switch objects without others knowing (when negotiating proves difficult). Career aspirations: Spiderman Doctor (Note: not a doctor for superheroes, but a superhero-like doctor). Back-up careers: Superman, Batman, generic Spiderman, generic Doctor.
Téa Sloane Smith. 2005-present. Influencer of world events and early threat warning system. Enjoyer of simple pleasures: crushing bananas in hand and smearing them on face, pulling brothers hair, eating soil & plant leaves.
Andrew Brent Smith. Professional father. 2001-present. Lover of all things technological. Pillar of consumer electronics economy. Buyer of Lego robotic packages on weekly basis. Utilizer of conflict resolution strategies to promote physical health by which non-family members remain unharmed by family members.
Jennifer Lynn Aaker. Professional mother: 2001-present. Destroyer of all things technological. Product durability test engineer. Originator of disposable mobile phone concept. Generator of many feelings and thoughts (and feelings about those thoughts).
We know we are unbelievably lucky and have no end of things to be thankful for. We have parents who love us, grandparents, aunts & uncles who shower us with yet more love, a soccer team of local cousins (Elliott, Maile, Sami, Kailyn), and our nanny Tata who with her family nourishes us in every imaginable sense of the word.