Visitors - Part 2

Nanna and Poppa Spotswood arrived on Ivan’s sixth month birthday to celebrate with us for three weeks. Showered with attention and gifts, he loved them from ‘hello’. This was the first time meeting these grandparents and Ivan welcomed the new audience.
My mother was eager to get to know him and she truly dedicated a lot of her time to playing, using some of the new toys she brought along in the suitcase. Ivan was at his finest during these playtimes, demonstrating fresh talent that I hadn’t seen in him before. Typically, on my own we reserve scheduled play where we engage in certain games, but here was someone new, someone blonde, someone who won’t stop the clock to do dishes or get laundry done while baby Ivan was awake. I noticed those days he slept deeply after so much activity. Glorious! As kids get older they need to play longer so I’ve made a point incorporate added hours of play to our day. Tasks can wait, as I only have another four months at home with my boy. My mother also taught him to drink from his own water bottle, and he was very proud to be able to wield his own beverage. Another grand idea she suggested was to produce different toys to occupy each station. For instance, when he is being changed, give him a finger puppet, or when in the high chair, hand him the signing zebra. All great suggestions.
My parents recently came from a three month visit to Australia to see my brother, his wonderfully witty wife, Vanessa, and my one and a half year old niece, Felicity. Naturally my parents compared the development of the two grandchildren. Apparently there is a real difference between a girl baby and a boy baby. Secretly I believe, genders aside, individuals operate the way they do because of their brains, not because they have a this or a that beneath the diaper.
Three weeks, a slew of advice, an army of help around the house, in the yard and on the construction site, plus some very funny moments in the life and times of Ivan at six months old: The first time demonstrating the way Ivan accustomed to being changed, Mum volunteered to assist and squealed when he peed on her, my Dad, the consummate proponent of never wasting a morsel of food ate the remainder of Ivan’s lunch, not knowing it was mixed with his own daughter’s breast milk, my Mum feeding him sweet pea mash, which Ivan didn’t care for and in mid-feeding he knocked her spoon out of his face and ended up with at lime green stripe of peas from forehead to tip of nose. Ahhh the memories. And this is what this blog is all about: memories – of the trials and tribulations of the firsts for our dear son.
If Ivan could speak comprehendible English, and he is really giving that a go, with his constant chattering, he would thank his grandparents from traveling such a long distance to impress upon him the value of family and endless love.