Arthur’s half birthday
Arthur is six months old. He is a sweetheart, with just enough mischievousness mixed in to be perpetually entertaining. He hasn’t barked yet, not once, though he is very vocal. His most recent hobby is pinching with anything within his reach (which is pretty much everything), then beelining it to the opposite end of the house. Thankfully, his desire to outrun the law is half-hearted, and he willingly forfeits his treasure.
Arthur is the biggest baby, literally and figuratively. If he has the tiniest owie or is startled, he’ll scream as though he’s being slaughtered. Initially, this was rather upsetting for him as well as me. Arms outstretched, I’d tell him, “Come to mama,” and I’d give him a once-over (a full-body rub, followed by a hug and 328 kisses) to ensure he wasn’t hurt, at which point his owie would instantaneously vanish, and he’d take off running. This action only fed his inner wuss and created a giant drama queen. The first time he limped, I was in a full-on panic, and my reaction was tenfold. Arthur took this as an invitation to up his game, and he has now added a random limp to his theatrics. He will hold his paw up and hobble over to me. Sometimes he forgets which side is “hurt” and he’ll switch from one leg to the other, all the while he’s crying what almost sounds like “mama” (at least to my ears). After an appropriate amount of fussing, Arthur will take off like a racehorse out of the gate.
Bill is Arthur’s best friend and my saviour. Raising a toddler and a teen (only 19 months apart in age) was challenging. Gratefully, Bill was a gentle and tolerant playmate for baby Arthur. As Arthur grew, so did the intensity of their play, which had to be closely monitored. Arthur is now taller and much faster than Bill, and so they can play freely, which brings them much joy but puts the interior of our home in peril (one broken door to date). I am constantly yelling, “Take it outside,” as chaos erupts in my living room. When Arthur has tired Bill out, Bill will origami himself under my desk in his “Arthur-free zone.”
Alice, well, Alice is thankful that Bill has someone else to pester. If I could read her mind, I’m sure she’s thinking, “Karma’s a b!tch” while laughing softly to herself.