Frankly, My Dear (Episodes 0-6)

I can't believe this is happening to me. (Yes, to me. It's my blog so it's all about me. He can do his own thing on MySpace.) My older baby is turning 18 on Friday. Yes, my dearest Frank! And it's gone by in an instant, or like Bossy says, "blink." But I have so many memories that I'm going to break this up into installments. Please indulge me. I'll indulge you, too.

First of all, I need to get this off my chest. For many years, I swore I would never have children. I never babysat as a teenager. I never had any interest in cute little babies. Perhaps because I was surrounded by many older people who thought it was great fun when I pretended to be a "junior senior citizen?" My mother-in-law will attest to this: when her third grandchild was born, I said, "Great, I'm off the hook." But then my friends started having babies. And I realized it wasn't a bad thing. And then we sort of thought about maybe having a baby someday. And then I was almost thirty. And then it happened to me. And it was the greatest thing ever.

So here we go into the Way-Back machine. Far, far back...to 1990.

Babyhood: Yes, we took the classic nakey "Baby on the Bearskin Rug" photo. I run a clean blog here so I promise -- no more nudity today. BTW, that is my babyhood bearskin rug. (I don't think I had a nudie shot.) Is the rug a family heirloom now or do I need to wait for a grandbaby to pose on it? Age 1: He loved our new kitten Sox. She's still with us 17 years later, having survived many years of being carried around by small children. I just want to nom nom nom on Frank's baby legs. Age 1.5: ACTION SHOT! One time, his auntie wanted to take pictures of him on his slide. I think I told him to slide down so we could get an action shot. So, forever after that, every single time he got to the top of the slide, he would pose and announce "action shot!" in his gruff little voice.
Age 2-3: The BATMAN Shirt. Yes, he was obsessed. For over a year he only wore Batman shirts. And often added boots and a cape. The picture on the right was on my refrigerator for years. I think we were making the cake for his 3rd birthday.
Age 4: He had widened his sartorial horizions. I think that's Spiderman under the cowboy gear. I adore that sly smile.
Age 5: First day of kindergarten. Be still my heart, is that a polo shirt? But wait, there are Gargoyles on the lunch box. Phew, he was growing up too fast for a moment there.

Age 6: He loves his new baby brother. He held and carried Ernest so carefully.

Stay tuned for Episodes 7-12.