LizaWasHere

Now that more of Noah’s personality is really emerging, I find myself wondering what kind of things he’ll enjoy doing as he gets bigger, and of course, what he’ll be when he grows up.

I don’t know, of course, and I don’t want to push him. It’s just imagining — what jobs in the world are stimulated by the same things I imagine motivate his current activities?

The main thing he does that triggers these thoughts is obsess about things that don’t match or fit perfectly — the book with the bent cover page, the tile that’s broken, the one whatever that doesn’t fit the pattern.

I sit there and wonder, research scientist? Computer programmer? Or with his clear love of books, librarian? Mystery novelist?
This is just toddler development, I think, but there’s also his complete physical fearlessness. Yesterday he sprinted across our (dead end of a dead end) street yesterday, popcicle in hand, Mommy chasing after to keep things from getting too out of control, when he tripped and landed face first in the asphalt.

The tears resulting didn’t seem to be from the pain of landing, or the scraped knees, but from the fact that I didn’t hand him back the gritty popcicle or let him down to eat the bits that feel off into the street. When he did the same thing, minus popcicle, on July 4, a beer-drinking parade watcher announced that he wanted whatever was causing Noah to feel no pain.

Stunt man? (Please god no.) Football player? Sunday he crawled half way up the curved ladder-style monkey bars (like these) at our playground by himself –  mountaineer?

(I followed him up, arm firmly around his chest as he continued climbing. Only when he was about 7 feet off the ground, Jill was immediately beneath him, and he just couldn’t reach the next rung, did he stop. I started breathing again a few minutes later.)