I snapped this photo of Anselm’s upside-down-smile during his last monthly update (nineteen months). It’s a face that Clive used to make on occasion, too. Seems like these guys share more than just an aversion to walking!
Hi, nice to meet you. I’m the Princess of Anthropomorphism.
You didn’t know you were reading the blog of royalty, did you? No doubt you’re wondering why I’m the Princess and not the Queen herself. The answer is simple: the Queen of Anthropomorphism is my mother. Remind me to tell you about the time we tried to pare down her sheep figurine collection but couldn’t throw any away because they would be so sad, and we couldn’t bear the thought of a trashcan full of sad ceramic sheep. And no, donating them wasn’t any easier.
No, I’m just the Princess–and while I can throw things away fairly easily, I can’t help but seeing personality in everything as well, from lonely food in the refrigerator to pretentious wildlife to the sad old house across the street. And–apparently–punctuation. Why not?
I’m not sure if you’re someone interested in the psychology of introversion vs. extraversion, but despite its unfortunate overplay in social media I still find reason to chuckle over the differences between people and their communicative and relational predilections. One day when I looked at a semi-colon, I was struck by what must be (of course!) a strained unit made up of two very different punctuation personalities.
The particular mark that is used in the roles of commas and quotes must be an extrovert. Right? You can tell because his mouth is wide open. He loves to talk. That’s why he gets to be paired with another like mark to form a quotation mark. There is little happier on a page than the quotation marks, chatting it up with one another.
…It’s also why the outgoing comma makes an excellent matchmaker for all sorts of independent and dependent clauses.
The period, on the other hand, is the introvert of the two, unabashedly bringing his sentences to a full stop and pausing to enjoy the silence for a bit. Oh, he’s not anti-social! He doesn’t mind conversation at all, but he does believe there is a time to be quiet, which is why you will almost always find him at the end of a run-on, bringing the unending ramble to a grinding halt.
It’s difficult to be the period in a semicolon.
But a colon, on the other hand, is a very happy arrangement indeed.
I have to say, I identify very strongly with one of these punctuation marks. What about you? Period or comma? Or are you the semi-colon, which I suppose could be considered an ambivert? 😉
I enjoyed Pisa more than I thought I would–mostly because I was completely ignorant of the other structures present in the square with the famous leaning tower. It was nice to see that iconic landmark, but the baptistry was my very favorite; hence the baptistry has the most pictures. I think it was the simplicity of the white marble and black stripes that I liked the most.
Nineteen months for Mr. Anselm!
Guess who’s walking? Not Anselm! He is close, though, getting braver (because that seems to be the major obstacle.) He spends a lot of time on our bed, standing and holding his balance for as long as he can. On solid floor, he tests himself by letting go of whatever he’s holding onto, then quickly checks to see if I’ve noticed.
Clive was 19, nearly 20 months before he walked, so Mr. Mo is right on target with his brother. But unlike Clive, Anselm seems to really, really want to walk. Here’s hoping that he’ll be a walker by his next monthly update.
He suddenly became enamored with saying “bye-bye” this month and, when before he had to be cajoled a bit, he will now say it to anyone and everyone, whether the situation calls for a farewell or not. He tells his reflection “bye-bye” when we leave the bathroom after washing his hands; he waves and murmurs it to the cars leaving the cul-de-sac. Every morning, when I go to get him up, he drops his blanket and bear out of the crib, wishing them a fond farewell as they hit the floor.
He is also fond of car trips (“Go go, go go?”) and punctuates his request for his “my” with a sweet little lilting hum. (“Ma-ma? Hmmm. Ma-ma? Hmmm.) That one’s hard to describe; I need to get a video of it before he stops doing it.
And yes, he still calls the blanket “mama”, and no, he doesn’t call me that (he doesn’t call me anything.) He DID give me a kiss today, so I’ll call that progress. Of course, everyone else continues to have names.
He is preoccupied with imitating his brothers. Whatever they are doing, Anselm must be involved as well. If they are playing cars, he must play cars. If they are finished eating, he is finished eating (whether he’s actually finished or not.) If they are reading, he must also sit and read. If they go outside, he must go outside, or else a full-on hissy fit is bound to ensue. He does fairly well on keeping up with them, and I’m sure that, once he’s walking, they’ll find it excessively difficult to keep him out of their games and activities. They are good with him, but he of course has a knack for disrupting their intentions without knowing it. It’s the privilege of being The Baby.
He has a serious love of the washer and dryer. The laundry closet is just outside his room and across the hall, so that when his door is open he can see the machines from his crib. He likes to tell you that they go “round and round” (he has a sign for this) and loves to help me put clothes in and push the buttons to make it go. It’s his special little chore, and he’s not too bad at it.
He finally had his haircut this month, but folks still ask if he’s a girl. I noticed while taking these pictures that he’s already due for another (crazy bangs!) This child and his hair. He seems to have grown a year in the last month.
Slow down, Mr. Mo, while I still have the right to call you “The Baby”.