Ceiling Fan

Friday. 

End of the week. 

First day, since we started. that nothing happened at the house site.  Nothing scheduled for today.  Even I took a break and didn’t even visit.  No time actually, it’s been a busy week.  Finally had a chance to drop a painting off to a client, then out to dinner to celebrate the wife’s birthday.  We’ve been on overload all week we barely had it in us to discuss the typical: how much slate flooring, construction schedule, and the “what are we going to use the loft for” territorial verbal dance (by the way, you know who envisions bookshelves up there; weird, I don’t read, and she reads a lot, so who gets to use what sounds to be the “NYC Public Library in the loft” I wonder. Just kidding honey, Happy Birthday). We shelved any decision-making until another day.

We get home, hello grandma, thanks grandma, “say goodbye to grandma, and give her a kiss”, etc. 

It’s late when we get home so time to put the boys to bed.  I get tasked with rocking my youngest to sleep, which usually I have at least a Bachelors degree in (like from one of those online colleges).  Tonight he fights me.  Not full-out but enough to make me realize I’m not 25 anymore and I need my downtime too.  Upstairs, lights out, find refuge from big brother who spars with his mother half heartily as she tries to get his teeth brushed and butt in bed.

This way, that way, rocking, singing (which when I sing, small animals cry and god snuffs out kittens for sport)….nothing. Still fussy.  Not too bad, like I said, but enough for my weary body. Well my little baby, you’re “old man” has a few tricks up his sleeve.  Hop up out of the comfy chair, flip a switch, voila…..ceiling fan…..back in comfy chair, rotate baby off shoulder, face up, mesmerize, baby falls asleep, I write blog and go to sleep. ready, set, go.

Then it hits me. 

The second he looks at that ceiling fan he settles down completely and a little hand wraps around my index finger. Score one for dad.  Doctorate granted: “Baby-Put-To-Sleep-PhD”.  But then something weird happens. The little dude in my arms, you know, the one in the pj’s and staring up at the ceiling…..I just realized he has never seen a running ceiling fan before in his entire life.  And he’s mesmerized by it (just as I predicted).  And I can sense that as long as he has an index finger to wrap his tiny hand around, he’s pretty much free to enjoy that fan cause that means his dad’s there and ceiling fans (whatever those are) pose no threat, especially in dark shadowy rooms. 

I catch him peekin’ at me to see if I’m sleeping or not.  I pretend I am in hopes that he gets the idea.

But what hits me is not sharing that “my first ceiling fan” moment, as cool as that was, but rather that I’m pretty sure he grew up a little today. 

Or yesterday, or this week or something. 

He eventually loses his battle with the ceiling fan and I’ve got lying in my arms what used to be this ball of a baby that would curl up on my shoulder.  Now he seems longer, bigger……. I dunno how to describe it.  But I’m pretty sure only a parent could tell you what I mean.  And it’s not like I was in Guam all week binge drinking with a Taiwanese circus.  Just yesterday I carried him all around the job site and showed him my studio and the screen porch.  I’m pretty sure I rocked him to sleep at least 2.5 other nights this week. I didn’t notice a thing.

In the calm of the last hours of the last day of a hectic week I finally saw something that was right in front of me all along.

The most remarkable event of the week happened on a day when nothing happened at the house site.

It’s going really, really fast. 

I guess we did make one house related decision today, after all.  No worries Ju-Ju, we’ll make sure you get a ceiling fan in your bedroom.  Love you little guy.

-Chris

 

 

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One thought on “Ceiling Fan

  1. Pingback: Really Cool Stuff | nine apple trees

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