Lion and Magic Boy

One of the joys in my day is to put Eric to bed. There’s a rhythm to it, a ritual we have developed. First we say goodnight to Nathaniel and Serena. Serena is tired by this time, and goes off to sleep quickly to the murmur of a guided visualization CD while Nathaniel stays up to read awhile, his green lampshade casting a quiet light that softly pools on his bed while he lies there, book in hand, awaiting sleep.

Then Eric and I go into my bedroom where his crib occupies a corner. I change his diaper and clothes, substituting various woolen layers as the chill of that particular evening seems to demand. Eric does not like to sleep with blankets or covers of any kind, though I would love for him to have a soft woolen duvet like mine, so I bundle him up until he is round and warm all over.

If it is growing late we go right to bed, but often we play a short game first. Eric likes to crawl off the bed, glancing mischievously at me to see if I’m watching, while I am supposed to say loudly and exaggeratingly, “Oh no, Eric isn’t getting DOWN, is he? Eric can’t get DOWN!” Eric giggles and crawls faster, positioning himself on his belly to slide off the bed the way we taught him. I catch him and toss him gently back on the bed while he cascades into delighted laughter to start the game again.

When the game is over, I turn off the light. That’s Eric’s cue to get under the covers while instructing me to do the same, positioning himself carefully so he can lean back comfortably against the pillows. He looks at me, sits up, lies back down again. It takes him a few moments to settle but soon he is snoring softly, my cue to pick him up, limp and head lolling in trust and comfort, to place him gently in his crib.

Naps are similar, except the charade of my own sleeping must be more vigilant. There is no darkness to mask my unsleeping eyes. Today Eric must have been watching me. I brushed hair from my forehead; he brushed hair from his forehead. I scratched idly at my neck; he scratched his neck vigorously. I brushed something off my nose; he put his own finger IN his nose.

Now Eric has always liked noses, but he never really explored his. Noses, for Eric, have been one of many body parts we name and make a game of his naming. But other than that, and especially compared to other children I know, he pretty much leaves his nose alone. If you know what I mean.

Today, then, I was treated for the first time the sight of his finger jammed in his nostril to the second knuckle. Knowing that I hadn’t yet gotten the full effect, he leaned over me, grinning like a madman, to give me a closer view of The Nose Finger. Then he lay back down again and checked to see if I was still looking, and when I was, leaned in again for the closeup.

I remembered a bit of my own childhood then. I grew up the younger sister of an older brother whom I revered. We were fairly close, except in public, and spent sublime Saturday mornings alone together watching Warner Brothers cartoons and raiding the pantry for pre-breakfast while our parents slept.

There were two weird couch-things in the room with the TV, large flat divans that doubled as pre-futons when my grandparents came to visit. The preferred location was across the room from the TV, with a better and more direct view, and proximity to a large square table in the corner which conveniently overhung the couch-divan. This was where my father sat and read all the jokes from the Reader’s Digest out loud to everyone (thus rendering it useless to later read on your own), and where he sat and ate after-dinner Cheez-its while watching McCloud or Columbo or McMillan and Wife.

It’s also where my brother sat on Saturday mornings.

Once in awhile no one else claimed the spot so I’d get to sit there. It was fun to run your hand on the cool top of the couch-divan that lay sheltered by the table, and even more fun to lie down so you could get a glimpse of what was on the underside of the table.

A veritable stalactite-field of old dried boogers, wiped carelessly in a convenient place, was placed there out of sight and apparently out of mind.

I’d like to know who put them there.

[tags]Eric, imitation, nose plucking, booger patrol[/tags]