24 February 2006
ezra, city museum, st. louis, 2005
he's a bruiser, people. he loves to throw stuff and poke things and push elevator buttons and listen to the sound of his own voice. he's unbelievably strong-willed and stubborn and has in him a reserve of energy that is freakishly endless. and the ez loves a good spar with our mean old cat (whom I love dearly but really, she is mean and has always scared the crazy mary out of ava and all other family and friends outside of ward and myself). ezra is known for his scowl-- an intensely furrowed brow that I swear he got from my dad's side of the family. The Scowl makes an appearance when ezra is unsure of the circumstances or doesn't buy what you're saying. and now he has started in with the tantrums. ava was such a chilled-out child that we really don't have any experience in this particular arena. but ezra... ezra does that crazy, stiff arched-back thing which then forces me to put him on the ground and walk away. oh, it's a scene. and I am starting to become that woman in the grocery store that you feel sorry for, you know the one-- you've seen her out of the corner of your eye and felt something akin to pity (or horror). she is the one trying (in vain) to maintain a little dignity while holding onto said screaming wiggling toddler. my husband says it best: the ez is, by very definition, scrappy. and just a little bit punk rock.
ah, but he breaks my heart in a million little ways every single day. I am butter the moment he tries to wrap his stubby little arms around mine, lays his head on my shoulder and starts to babble softly. the beginnings of new words coming out of his tiny mouth, his signature dance (which is something like a head tilt and some stomping and an arm thing), his awareness of anyone, anything in pain and his attempts to comfort. the way he takes off running towards the door at the end of the day when he hears ward's keys in the door. personality for days, eyes as bright and as big as the moon, a laugh that should be bottled and sold all over the world. all of these things, they hit me so hard and I'm often reduced to mush, no choice but to soften.
this past weekend, we were in indianapolis (on a little family getaway centered around ward's speaking engagement). and there we were, in our hotel room at four am, ezra wide awake. I was too tired to get him to go back to sleep and so ward and I just let him wander the room while we talked about the weekend. the light from the bathroom was just enough for him to make his way around and he was thrilled with this unusual early morning grant of freedom. finally, he stopped at the small couch where ava was sleeping-- she'd kicked off the blankets (like she so often does) and was lying all curled up like a cat. he looked at her for a moment.
"ward, if that kid puts the blanket over ava, I swear. I will not be able to take it. I will pass out from cuteness and love."
and that is exactly what ezra did. he took the pink fuzzy princess blanket and gently covered her up (as best as he could) and walked away. shortly after that, he fell asleep on the bed with me.
so, he is not exactly the terror I have made him out to be. I'm not saying we don't have our hands full, don't have our work cut out for us, that we won't be getting calls from school or escape multiple trips to the emergency room. but he's destined for greatness, that kid. at least, that's what I'm willing to put money on.
more photobooth friday greatness:
I'm channeling doris day