Shannon Phillips

Appropriately enough, it’s “Hi.” He’s said it several times now in the appropriate context, so I’m pretty sure it’s a real word (unlike the “mama” and “dada” we sometimes get, which are probably still just babble).

We said goodbye to Nanita and Markie today (hope they have a good trip back home!) and are preparing to relax a bit after all the visiting we’ve done in the last few weeks. Robin also had his second observation day at the school today. He loved it, again. “Thank you for school, mommy,” he said as we left. He really is a sweet little guy.

We took Robin for his first visit to the dentist yesterday. Unfortunately, despite what I thought was a pretty good toothbrushing routine, he has cavities in each of his molars—and since these are teeth that he’ll keep until he’s ten to twelve, the cavities need to be filled. So that’ll be…not fun.

The pediatric dentist that we found is very geared to making the whole experience tolerable for small kids. Robin was scared of the chair at first, but he sat in my lap for the examination, and the dentist made a game of counting his teeth that won him over. He was ultimately very good and cooperative, and then we stayed for a little bit so he could play with the toys they had there. He left thinking that the dentist was pretty awesome. Of course, the actual process of filling his teeth will be a lot more challenging. Their plan is to give him nitrous and local anesthesia, and, if necessary, to restrain him using what they call a “papoose” (kind of like a straightjacket, actually). Ugh. Basically Robin has no fear of his next visit, but I’m dreading it.

On a more positive note, we’ve been seeing a lot of family lately. Last weekend was Sam’s grandfather’s birthday, and we hosted the boys’ Pappy and Aunt Betsy while they were in town for the event. This weekend we’re driving up to Carson City for a “celebration of life” memorializing Sam’s grandmother Elsie. And next weekend my mother and Mark are coming out for a visit. So that’s real nice for the kids.

Quick update for the grandparents: Davy is a couple weeks past nine months. He had a check-up and is doing great. The doctor actually printed that on a sheet of paper, “doing great,” and gave it to us to take home. The same sheet of paper also has his height—29 inches, which is 60th percentile for his age—and weight: 18 lbs 13 oz, which is only 15th percentile, and hard to believe since he’s such a solid little ball of baby chub. He eats basically every waking moment, he’s like a hummingbird or something. The doctor’s print-out also says “General appearance: well nourished infant.” I think for a mom that’s like getting a gold star from your teacher.

Davy is fully mobile now: he still scootches rather than properly crawling, but he can scootch really fast. He’s also just starting to pull himself up on what Sam calls “his hind legs” (or, you know, as humans call them, “legs”). He’s enormously proud of himself when he succeeds, and will stand there clinging to the ottoman or the washing-machine rack or whatever, chortling at his own cleverness. His other tricks include playing peek-a-boo, waving, and occasionally busting out with a “dada” or “mama” that a fond ear can plausibly imagine to be directed at the appropriate target.

Less charmingly, he’s also developed the habit of emitting ear-splitting, high-register shrieks whenever he senses that he is not the center of attention, or if a real crisis develops, such as a situation where someone is eating something and not sharing it with him. This makes it nearly impossible for us to go restaurants. It’s sad because Robin has just hit a stage where he can be relied upon to remain in his seat for the duration of a restaurant meal.

Speaking of Robin, he’s now three and three quarters, which seems to be a delightful age. He’s fully engaged in imaginative play, and will regularly come up to me to announce that he’s now a kangaroo/pterodactyl/ballerina/Jackie Chan. Or one of a hundred other things. The correct response is “Hi, Robin [kangaroo/pterodactyl/ballerina/Jackie Chan], show me how you can [jump/fly/dance/do kung fu].” He had his first “observation day” at the preschool last week, after which he came home and announced “I’m a doggie. Doggies love school.” He’ll have another observation day at the school next month, but won’t start until the fall. The observation days are sort of the last chance between school and parents to call the whole thing off, but there’s no danger of that happening—Robin fits in great there. In fact after his first day there he was invited to a birthday party for one of the other children, which we went to last Saturday; he had a great time and it was really nice for us to get to chat with the other parents. So I’m still super happy about the school thing.

I hope all the moms I know are having a wonderful Mother’s Day morning. Mine’s been…exciting, so far. I woke up to Robin’s screams, and the sound of Sam’s running feet, as he shouted “Oh shit, oh shit.” Well, that got me out of bed pretty quickly, and the first thing I saw as I rounding the corner out of the bedroom was Robin’s face covered in blood.

Turns out the kid had hit his head on a corner of our TV cabinet, and produced one of those very shallow forehead cuts that isn’t at all serious, but bleeds profusely. Anyway, Sam wiped up Robin in the bathroom while I got down the first aid kit and found a Band-Aid, and that was about when Sam said, “Oh shit, I left the baby on the couch.”

So then I went running for the living room just in time to catch Davy from taking a swan dive headfirst onto the floor.

Anyway, after that, everything settled down a bit, there was less shouting and profanity, and Sam made me a cup of coffee. Here’s a picture of Robin (with his band-aid) so you can see his sleek new haircut:

Oh, and Sam gave me a pot of tulips (awww), and I was also excited to get roses delivered—but there was no card or slip inside to tell me who they were from! Could the person who sent the lovely pink roses please raise your hand?

I made pumpkin muffins for breakfast, and Robin was very gratifyingly thrilled. He ran around the kitchen shouting “Cookies! Cookies!”

“No,” I said, “muffins,” but it didn’t faze him.

He was even still happy once he had one on his plate, and I thought he was cute so I snapped a photo. Doesn’t he have a sort of Jedi-apprentice thing going on?

He’s getting a haircut today, though.

You know, I have some experience at wading into flamewars on the Internet, and I have to say: if I was going to choose somebody to start a war of words with, it wouldn’t be Neil Gaiman. It’s not so much the legions of rabid fans that would put me off—I’m willing to tangle with people who are merely popular—but you have to stay in your weight class, right? This is a man who can eviscerate reputations with a single offhanded remark. This is a writer whose words are being taken down for posterity.

If you read up on the whole thing, once you come to this line from Neil: “I would not be human if I didn’t admit that I looked at his neck in the photograph, to see if it was as mighty and bull-like as I felt he had implied, and that I might have been just a tiny bit disappointed”—well, it reads a bit like that thing kung fu fighters do, you know. When they stretch out an open palm, and then wave the enemy in with a little flick of the fingers. That invitation to an almighty beatdown.

It’s like—I’m reading Norse sagas right now, and the poor fools who thought it was a good idea to tangle with the skalds, people are still laughing at their humiliation. It’s poor planning to insult a bard. Just saying.

Did you know that the Vikings liked to play the dozens? They had this great tradition of the senna, or insult contest, many of which actually got recorded for posterity as part of the Norse sagas. So the next time you need a snappy comeback, consider one of these:

“It is my pleasure to fight with distinction while you kiss your bondwomen by the fire.”

“It is strange that you dare to come in an army with good men, you who have sucked the blood of many cold corpses.”

“You were gelded by the giant’s daughters on Thrasness.”

“Do you remember when you were a mare with the stallion Grani and I rode you at full speed on Bravoll? Afterward you were the goatherd of the giant Golnir.”

“I sired nine wolves on you at Laganess, and I was the father of them all.”

I particularly like that last one, for its combination of sexual intimidation and sheer WTF-ery. A surefire put-down for any situation!

I have this daydream I revisit occasionally. It’s the one where the aliens come, and they make contact, first of all, with me. But not because they actually want to talk with me. “You, specimen of this planet’s dominant species,” they say. “You…hew-mahn. You appear to be unexceptional in age and social status, and you are a representative of the type that slightly dominates your world’s population. Fee-males. Unexceptional hew-mahn fee-male, please identify a small group of those who may speak on behalf of your world. We will bring those you name aboard our ship to negotiate a preliminary treaty between the hew-mahns and the bzzzt-SCHREE! Please excuse. That was a translator error.”

So then I name a few people who I’d trust to represent humanity in the first contact with the aliens. This is the fun part of the daydream. Who would you choose? Say you’re sitting there, at the computer, and your room fills with green light and the aliens start talking to you in their weird distorted voices. Who do you tell them to go look for?

The aliens are prepared to deal with between three and eight people. You have to keep in mind, of course, that the more people you send, the more likely it is humanity’s message will become confused and jumbled. My current group is: President Obama, Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, Stephen Hawking, Seth Shostak of the SETI project, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Judith Martin (Miss Manners). Shostak and Le Guin are in there because I figure it would be good to have some people who have spent a lot of time thinking about first-contact scenarios, and Mrs. Martin makes an appearance because I can’t think of a situation that requires more delicacy, tact, and charm. The group is weighted towards Americans because, well, I’m American, but I do try to pick a group that’s diverse along as many axes as possible.

So who would you pick, to represent humanity? It’s good to be prepared.

I hope everyone who celebrated Easter yesterday had an excellent holiday; that those who are observing Passover are in the midst of similar excellence; and that those who are merely in a mood to celebrate spring weather are managing to endure the grey and wet with patience.

We hosted Pappy and Nonna over the weekend, which was delightful as always, especially for the kids. We dyed eggs:

and Robin had a great time hunting them in the backyard:

while Davy cheered from the warmth of his Pappy’s lap:

Then we had Easter dinner! At the store I got the very last leg of local lamb, and we roasted it along with snap peas and carrots from our veggie box, and a strawberry pie for dessert. The strawberries were from our veggie box too, and even the herbs were snipped from our front yard (we planted two rosemary shrubs flanking the front steps a few weeks ago). I didn’t take a picture of the food, but I did snap a photo of the flower arrangement, of which I am unreasonably proud:

I dunno, it just came out in a particularly satisfactory fashion somehow. Lilacs, pink-shaded calla lillies, and pussy willows. Even though it’s drippy and chill outside, having pretty flowers makes me happy about Spring.

I haven’t posted much recently, I know. The main thing going on right now is that Sam’s grandmother Elsie is in failing health. We’re leaving for Reno tomorrow, but we’re told that she probably won’t be aware of us when we’re there. Elsie is a kind and generous lady who makes a great fruitcake and keeps her fridge papered with pictures of the boys. I’m glad Robin got to spend some time with her, and sorry that Davy didn’t get to see her more. And of course I have enormous sympathy for Sam’s family during this difficult time.

Update: I just learned that Elsie passed away last night. I’m so sorry for Sam and his family.