This family just went on Vacation for the first time. My Mother-In-Law had reserved a time share for a weekend up in Big Bear, but then ended up not being able to use it. She offered it to us instead. And it was mostly a good time although VERY stressful. The packing list alone, man… Also, Asher didn’t know what to think of it and refused to adhere to any kind of regular schedule while up there. I worried. Incessantly (he’s fine, of course. He’s even sleeping soundly).
But we had good times amidst all my superfluous woe. It was beautiful up there. And the weather was not a million degrees too hot to go outside. We hiked, we swam, we enjoyed awesome Nepalese food at the Himalaya Restaurant, we strolled by the lake.
Asher didn’t care about any of that. His favorite was the new and fancy suite to run around in. New rooms with funky flooring! Vertical blinds! Oh, the remotes! And then there was his one true love, the ceiling fan.
I noticed it one morning when I had pulled him into bed with us. He stood on the white comforter, one hand bracing himself steady on my hip, and gestured to the fan. He stared at it, and his hands twirled. His fingers extended out and then in again as he gestured, pulling his arm back, pushing his arm forward.
It looked for anything like he was performing magic on the fan.
So here is the question: what WOULD an eight-month-old want to summon from inside of a fan? Or is he just trying to keep it running with his magic fingers? He did this several times throughout the trip, too. It wasn’t a fluke.
I don’t know, man. I may be waiting for an owl to fly in my window in a few years with an epistle from Hogwarts.
Casey E. Hamilton 