Luca, perhaps the pickiest eater on the planet discovered a new food today. This may evaporate all our concerns that he’s not adequately nourished. An entire Powerbar was consumed by the child as we drove home from Midwest Mountaineering this morning.
Luca turned two and received a tool kit for his birthday. He discovered that its possible to communicate meaningful thoughts and that you can string words together and make phrases like, “Guca daw ba-ooon!” waving a piece of sidewalk chalk in his right hand.
Tonite after I tucked in Luca, he looked up at me clutching his blankee and uttered the sweetest two sylables a parent ever gets to hear, “Wuv Woo”. A flood of talking has taken over the boy, who now points out each “Heck-ah-cah-cah” (helicopter), “Gah-cah-gah-cah” (motorcycle), and “Boo Cuck” (blue truck). He’s so lucky to have a big sister who never stops talking, and understands his language before the rest of us.
Today Luca discovered the joy of corn on the cob. Even after dunking it in the pool and dragging it across the grass, it never lost its appeal.
Poor Luca, ever the curious, still using his tongue and throat to explore the world around him. The little guy decided to bite into a small sea shell from Florida yesterday before breakfast. He musta been hungry. I was busy reading the in paper about the Twins 18-1 loss to the Tigers when I heard a gag, and a wretch. I ran to Luca, and found two broken pieces of seashell, wet in his hand. A third shard was the missing puzzle piece, a jagged half moon shape about 3/4 of an inch long. I upended the couch cushions and looked behind everything, there was no sign of it. I remembered reading about this very thing in a Curious George book once. So I called the Park Nicollet nurse line, and they advised me to have him seen immediately, incase it was lodged in his esophagus, or his tummy.
He didn’t seem sick at all as we sat in the urgent care waiting room, looking at a colorful fish tank. He bravely submitted to examinations of all kinds; throat, neck and tummy. No sign of trouble, so they sent us to radiology for an x-ray. There we met the hideous Pig-O-Stat, resembling some sort of post modern torture tool. I set him in place and he sadly stuck out his lower lip, looking confused. He cried briefly just as the picture was being taken which is good apparently it opens up the ribcage for a clearer exposure.
The results of the x-ray were inconclusive, so we had to go back for a lateral shot. If the calcified shard of seashell was turned sideways, it may not have been apparent from the frontal view. His second encounter with the Pigg was much less pleasant. He cried immediately and struggled to get out by buckling his legs and twisting his torso. I tried telling him it was going to be OK, but I’m sure he could sense my apprehension as I watched his tummy skin being pinched in.
The result of the second x-ray was the same as the first. No sign of the shell. The doc told me that if the shell had been swollowed, it was likely small enough to pass without any problem. We need to keep an eye out for abdominal pain and trouble pooping. He said that I’d be amazed to see some of the things that have managed to make their way along the twisting paths of the small and large intestine. I’m sure that I would.
I just got off the phone with Luca. Leslie put him on the line so I could say hi, and to my surprise, he replied in perfect english, “Hi!”. Then he finally spoke my name, for the first time… “Da-Da” and then, “Bye”. I had taken it as a mild affront that he could say ‘backpack’, ‘Oscar’, and even ‘Wiggles’ before he could say “Daddy”. Tonite when I get home I’ll pull out the dictionary, he may be ready to start memorizing the transitive verbs.
Poor Luca,
Your ear is hurting, and you have no words yet to describe the feeling, of pressure building up as you lay in the crib at night. Congested nostrils, bronchial passageways obstructed, you stand and cry with a clammy hot head. Its been five times in the last hour you woke, and cried out for something. Milk? Tylenol? Sudafed? I’ve tried it all, and then again, perhaps overdosed you. You fidget in the rocking chair at 2:30am. Your brain buzzing with light fever and psuedoephedrine. I am spent and ready to give up on sleeping at all. Then your mom takes over, with the nuture and grace of a professional, she rocks you and holds you tight for ninety minutes. You’re soothed and sleepy again.
The next day, we have a doctor examine your ear, bravely you submit to the probe, and a prescription is delivered, Amoxicillin. It’s helped, you’re as happy and energetic as ever now, and we’ve survived another bout of January colds in Minnesota.
Luca is overjoyed at bathtime, and even tries to get in the tub with his clothes on. His expression in this picture sums it up nicely I think.
Today Luca found a tiny little shred of a wiggles book under the couch with half of Jeff Fatt’s face. He ran out into the kitchen grunting “Gi-Gah! Gi-Gah!” Crunchy Munchy Honey Cakes has been running through my head for weeks, along with their rockabilly hit, “Hot Potato”.
With these words I begin a chronicle of the Buckaroo, Luca. His exciting life will be documented regularly. You can check back often, or subscribe to the RSS feed to be informed the very instant anything important occurs in the life of this dynamic child.