"unencumbered"

It was one of those nights that, when you're asked to describe it, makes you slightly roll your eyes and sigh through your nose and say "Long." As if this were sufficient to convey the absolute hell you endured trying to placate and negotiate with an essentially irrational being. Mer would know a lot more about this than me, but I happen to be at the keyboard. So, we had this "long" night, comparable not so much to a night spent as a Tutsi hiding from the Hutu mobs in late spring of '94 as to standing behind 4 octogenarians in the express checkout line, all of whom are bearing excess items, coupons ("somewhere in this mess") and checkbooks (ibid.), and lacking identification. That is, more frustration than mortal danger.

I think the issue for WeeZ was his hands' refusal to quickly arrive at and remain in his mouth. (Also the related but conditional difficulty arising from his pointer fingers trapping his thumbs so he's forced to try to suck his whole fist.) He was laying on his new playmat - the one with dangling animals of both the rainforest and Serengeti. There was a pattern of motion: First, shaking the arms outward at 45 degrees, until the monkey or parrot were smacked. Then both hands dive for the face, sometimes touching the mouth, usually bonking the forehead, but only for a second. After that at least 15 seconds of furious vertical arm flapping - if he'd had feathers he might have lifted off. Repeat. Repeat again. Repeat until he cries. It was odd how long it took before he cried. At least an hour. I know he must have been frustrated. I was frustrated for him. He wouldn't take the pacifier - kept spitting it out. He wanted those hands, but they refused to submit to his will.

It'll be a big step some day in the near future when he can easily place and keep his hands in his mouth. Some time after that it'll be an even bigger step getting him to stop. The picture above is from this morning, as he dreamed away while Mer and I listed to an Ira Glass rerun. The picture captures why we - and most parents - will suffer through the arm-flapping and crying nights.