1987

STEPHEN JAMES SMITH

born exactly at 8:30 A.M. on Monday, June 15, 1987weight: 8 lbs., 2 oz.; length: 21½ inches*

other measurements: head - 35½ cm.; chest - 35½ cm.

Tuesday, June 30

I was present at Stephen's delivery (I was also present for Henry's) by Caesarian section.** Stephen cried loud and vigorously during the first few moments of his life. (Henry seemed to have cried less loudly.)

On the morning of Stephen's birthday, the nursing staff became concerned because he was breathing with difficulty. A chest X-ray was ordered (it proved to be negative), and the nurses called the pediatrician, Dr. Kuo (a Taiwanese doctor), who was present at Stephen's birth.

I was allowed to go into the nursery area and to observe Stephen and touch him for a moment. He appeared to be breathing with a slightly *Stephen was 7 oz. heavier than Henry and 1-1/2 inches longer at birth.* **The obstetricians who performed the delivery were Dr. Robert Armbruster and his younger brother, Dr. Thomas Armbruster, who are both associated with the Bronxville Obstetrical and Gynecological Group. The pediatrician was Dr. Zane Kuo of Yonkers, N.Y.

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wheezing sound. He also was apparently having intermittent spasms brought on by being chilled. The nurses had to turn up the temperature on the incubator and to put a stocking cap on his head. Electrodes had been attached to Stephen's chest so that his vital signs could be monitored throughout the day. The electrodes were detached the next day, and the problem with Stephen's breathing turned out not to be serious. Apparently, it is common for babies born by Caesarian section to have difficulty breathing at the outset because of fluid in the lungs. (In normal, non-Caesarian childbirth, fluid is forced out of the lungs as the baby emerges from the vagina.)

Stephen also experienced mild jaundice during his first few days of life (it was noticed by the pediatrician on about the third or fourth day). Again, jaundice is quite common in newborns, and the doctor did not think Stephen's was serious. [Eventually, it took care of itself.]

Another condition noted by the pediatrician was that Stephen's feet were slightly turned inward, the result of the position he was lying in in the womb. This condition appeared to resolve itself -- the doctor commented that it had improved itself only a few hours after the delivery.

Stephen was discharged from the hospital on Friday, June 19.

Several people (including Janet and my sister Carol) who have seen Stephen [have] commented that he looks like me. It is hard for me to tell whom he looks like at this point. In many respects, he looks quite similar to Henry at this stage (especially when I compare baby photographs), but his complexion is darker than Henry's, he has more hair and it is darker, and his face is more elongated. He seems to have thick lips (like Henry does) and a mouth similar to mine (it becomes narrow at the bottom).

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Stephen appears to be longer and skinnier than Henry. His legs in particular appear to be long and thin.

Since he has come home, Stephen has been quiet and unobtrusive for the most part. For the first few days, he cried with a weak whimper. Now he cries more vigorously.

He sleeps a lot and seems always to be hungry. He is breast feeding and is also taking infant formula as a supplement.

He seems to like being held.

Tuesday, July 7

Stephen had a christening on Saturday, July 4. The ceremony was held precisely at 3 P.M. in Holy Cross Roman Catholic Church in Maspeth, Queens (it lasted only ten to fifteen minutes or so). The priest was Father Adam Prochaski, who was also the priest at my wedding. The godparents were Stephen's aunt Marian Ackerman and his uncle (by marriage) David Hay. Also present at the church were Janet and I, my sister Carol (David's wife), and Janet's brother Bill, who took photographs. Stephen cried loudly during much of the ceremony. (The priest allowed us to give him a bottle during the service to calm him down.) During the service, he was held at different intervals by his Aunt Marian, his mother, and his Uncle David.

After the ceremony, we had a party to celebrate the christening at our apartment in Jackson Heights. Besides those present at the church, Stephen's maternal grandparents, his Uncle Ralph and Aunt Barbara, and Janet's aunt Madeline Dalton attended the party. (Stephen's maternal

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grandmother dressed him in the special white christening outfit that he wore in the church.) Stephen slept through most of the party, although he awoke briefly near the end (at around 10 o'clock) and was held briefly by his aunts Barbara and Marian.

Stephen's face appears to be changing; he looks less like a newborn baby and more like an adorable infant. His face appears more composed. He has an alert, penetrating gaze (one that gives the impression of thoughtfulness) and is handsome in appearance. His face is getting more character.

Wednesday, July 8

Stephen seemed to display a little half-smile this morning. His face seems to be becoming a little fuller (cheeks puffed out somewhat).

Friday, July 10

We took Stephen to the doctor's on July 8. The doctor, a Jackson Heights pediatrician named Lana Schwartz-Manfield, did not think that jaundice was a problem anymore.

Stephen weighed 9 lbs., 3 oz. (a gain of slightly over a pound in just over three weeks), and his length was 22½ inches (he has already grown

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by one inch). He cried loudly when the pediatrician was examining him; she said he has "strong lungs."

The pediatrician also said that Stephen appears to have strong arms.

Stephen has begun to use a pacifier, although he has difficulty keeping it in his mouth.* He appears to want to be left alone less and to want to be held more and to be given loving attention.

Stephen has a nice full (for a baby) head of hair.

Tuesday, July 14

Stephen appears to be gaining weight, and his face seems to be getting fuller.

We have occasionally been putting Stephen into a bassinet (called a Kanga Rocka-Roo) which has a curved shape that results in his head being slightly propped up. He has a striking resemblance to Henry (who used the same bassinet) when he is lying in the bassinet in this particular position. Lying in the bassinet enables Stephen to look at us. He appears to be becoming more "sociable" -- i.e., he doesn't want to be left alone -- and I see him gazing at me often as if he were aware of my presence, more so than in the past.

Stephen seemed to smile at me this morning.

* *Unlike Henry, Stephen never really took to a pacifier.

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Wednesday, July 22

Stephen seemed to be quite out of sorts on July 17 (especially) and July 18. He cried vigorously throughout much of the day on July 17. Janet thought it may have been a result of her eating some fresh fruit, which can apparently cause indigestion (she is breastfeeding Stephen).

He smiled at Janet on July 17.

On July 22, he seemed to smile several times in the morning.

He seems to be feeling better this week. We have taken him out several times in his carriage.

His face continues to fill out. Janet remarked this morning that he looks very similar to Henry. I also think he looks a lot like Henry at this stage.

Stephen unmistakably smiled at me again this morning (his lower lip curled up).

Sunday, July 26

Several people said that Stephen appears to be strong (and that they expect him to be tall). He seemed to be somewhat weak when he was born.

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We took Stephen in the car with Henry and us to a cookout at his Aunt Carol and Uncle Dave's in Huntington, Long Island yesterday. It was the longest trip Stephen has made since he was born. He slept in his carriage most of the time and was not a problem to take care of. He was dressed up in a little one-piece outfit with shorts that made him look much older than heretofore.

Stephen still cries a lot and wants very much to be held. He doesn't want to be left alone and ignored.

People have remarked on Stephen's alert, intelligent gaze.

Monday, July 27

Every day Stephen looks a little more chubby and alert. He still cries vigorously when he's hungry. He seems to be taking more comfort in being held by me (I feel that he recognizes me).

Wednesday, July 29

Stephen has "graduated" to a slightly larger size of disposable diapers (for 12- to 24-pound babies).

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Friday, July 31

On July 29, Stephen went with Janet and Henry for a visit to his maternal grandparents in Maspeth. His grandparents had just returned from a visit to their summer home in the Poconos in Pennsylvania.

We took Stephen with us to Jones Beach on Long Island yesterday. He was in a covered carriage most of the time and was very docile during the visit.

Stephen sleeps a lot during the day and breastfeeds a lot at night.

I enjoy holding Stephen more now. He seems to recognize me and to appreciate the closeness and attention he's getting. He usually stops crying when I pick him up.

I can't really tell which parent Stephen looks like, although (like Henry) I feel there is a similarity between the shape of his mouth (or is it the appearance of the lips when they are closed?) and mine.

I find the appearance of Stephen's eyes when he is gazing at me to be very attractive.

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Thursday, August 6

On August 1, we took Stephen and Henry into Manhattan briefly. It was the first time that Stephen was in Manhattan. I took a picture of Stephen and his mother in front of the Whitney Museum.

On Saturday, August 1 (I believe that was the day), Stephen smiled at me two times within the space of seconds. I was surprised by the fact that he was so obviously smiling; his mouth was open very wide when he smiled.

For the last couple of days, Stephen seems to be crying a great deal. He seems to want to be held all the time. If you pick him up and hold him with his head on your shoulder, he will become calm. The minute you put him into bed (even when he appears to have fallen asleep), he will start crying again. He generally cries quite loudly.

Stephen definitely looks plumper and bigger (he does not look scrawny, frail, or emaciated) since he was born.

Friday, August 7

Stephen went with his mother and his brother to the Central Park Zoo yesterday. The group took a city bus to Manhattan. Stephen slept most of the day.

Yesterday morning, Stephen smiled at me several times. It is sort of a half-smile that you have to be watching for to perceive. His mouth is

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usually open when he does it. Stephen is also occasionally making noises in my presence that seem like efforts to communicate with me.

During Stephen's periods of contentment (when he's not hungry, sleepy, or crying), he lies on his back and stares back at you. He seems much more aware of other people now and seems want to "establish rapport" -- i.e., to look at you and have you look back at him. He seems to want affection (to be held and caressed) and to be in general more aware of the presence of other people.

Saturday, August 15

After putting Stephen in his crib tonight at about 9:30 or 10 P.M., I stayed with him for a minute or two in the dark. I talked to him and touched him gently. I could see him looking at me in the darkness and felt that he liked my presence (he fell asleep quickly).

I held Stephen for quite a while after coming home tonight. He is delightful to be with when he is in a serene mood. I stretched him out on the brown living room couch, where he lay looking at me with his attractive blue eyes. It is hard to be objective about a baby, but I think he is very handsome looking -- with his alert gaze, full lips, and well proportioned facial features. Last night, when he was at his maternal grandparents' house in Maspeth, Queens, Stephen's grandmother called his grandfather into the living room to observe how tall Stephen appeared to be: He was lying in an old-fashioned baby carriage that his grandparents use as a crib, and they were impressed by the fact that he takes up a great deal of the length of the crib when stretched out. Stephen has nice smooth brown hair

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(it does not seem as dark as when he was born). It is fairly full on the back and sides; he is still pretty much bald on the forehead.

Stephen also has cranky moods when we can't get him to stop crying. He had a cranky period tonight between his calm spell (on the living room couch) and the time when I put him in his crib. When he is cranky, it seems that no matter how you hold him you can't make him comfortable. He squirms in your arms as if he wants to escape from your clutches, but he gets upset when you try to put him down.

Earlier, I had been walking around with Stephen in my arms. I think he is most comfortable in this position, being held against your shoulder, possibly jiggled a little bit, while you are standing (he is never as comfortable if you sit down while holding him in the head-over-the-shoulder position). Stephen seemed to fall asleep while I was walking with him in this fashion -- he was utterly content -- but, as is almost always the case, once I tried to lie him down in his bed (thinking he had fallen asleep), he started to cry again.

Stephen's face has become rather plump and rounded looking, and he looks like he is thriving now -- a well-fed baby in very good physical condition.

Stephen occasionally greets me with a smile now (he smiled at me first thing on Wednesday morning, August 12, and on Thursday night, August 13, when I came home late, as well as on other occasions), and he also emits a little gurgling sound when he is contented (the sound is unmistakable) that, when he makes it, makes me feel very strongly that he's trying to communicate with me. Sometimes I gently stroke his chest (when he is wearing a shirt), and he seems on occasion to like that.

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Stephen is breastfeeding regularly and also drinking baby formula (the Enfamil brand) at regular intervals to supplement his mother's milk. The act of breastfeeding makes him very contented; he is usually hungry afterwards and drinks a good percentage of a bottle of formula filled up to the six-ounce line. (On Friday night, August 7, he gobbled down all 6 ounces from the bottle I was giving him.) After drinking the formula, Stephen almost always burps up some of the milk; occasionally he has hiccoughs.

This evening, Henry and I went into Stephen's room because Stephen was crying. Henry, in an attempt to relate to Stephen, jumped on the floor near the crib and shouted at Stephen. I just read something in an article by Charles Darwin to the effect that his own child William was scared at an early age by noises, and I saw that Stephen was plainly frightened by Henry. He started and began to cry even louder when Henry jumped and shouted; I had to pick him up to calm him down.

Stephen tends to sleep off and on during the day and night. He is usually awake very early in the morning, a period when he usually is content (after a late night or early morning breastfeeding session) and when it is very pleasant to be with him.

Stephen looks adorable in a little blue cap Janet puts on him when he goes outside (he wore it to his grandparents' last night). He went to Jones Beach with his mother and Henry again (his second visit) on Wednesday, August 12 and slept in his carriage most of the time, according to Janet.

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Tuesday, September 8

For about a week and a half now, Janet has been trying to get Stephen to rely more on his bottle for nourishment and less on breastfeeding. She starts work tomorrow and will not be available to breastfeed Stephen during the day.

Stephen is scheduled to be fed (which usually means have his bottle) at four-hour intervals, but he is usually hungry before the four hours are up. He is growing very rapidly and seems to be practically always hungry. He voraciously sucks on his bottle, then usually has a period of indigestion during which he will burp up quantities of milk.

It is remarkable how much Stephen has grown in less than three months. He was like a little peanut when we brought him home from the hospital. Now he is a plump, robust baby. When Stephen was first born, I somehow thought of him as frail and somewhat sickly (despite his size). Now he appears to be just the opposite. He has a round, chubby face and his skin appears to be a healthy color.

Several people who have seen Stephen have commented on his large size for his age and on the fact that he is likely to be tall (when he is lying in his baby carriage, his feet already dangle over [the] edge). I was in a neighborhood bodega (a Hispanic grocery store) with Stephen two or three weeks ago when a lady asked me how old he was. I said "ten months" by mistake (instead of ten weeks), and the woman did not find this age incongruous for a baby this size. Then, I corrected myself, explaining that Stephen was actually ten weeks old. The woman said that Stephen was likely to be very tall.

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Another thing that I have noticed and that other people (including Stephen's Aunt Barbara) have commented on is how closely Stephen resembles Henry. The resemblance is strikingly apparent from a comparison of photographs of Stephen with those of Henry when he was about the same age.

Stephen appears to be sleeping somewhat less than he did during his first few weeks of life (he is awake for longer periods during the day). I think he is becoming more aware of his environment and especially of the presence or absence of people; he seems to become more upset now when he is left alone.

Stephen goes through several cranky phases during the day. When he is in a cranky phase, he's very hard to deal with. He wants to be picked up and held, but when you are holding him, he squirms uncomfortably in your arms. If you decide to put him down and lie him down somewhere, he becomes very upset and starts to cry loudly.

Stephen wants also to be held often at times when he is less cranky or uncomfortable but simply does not want to be left alone. At such times, he will fall asleep blissfully in your arms (and will sleep that way for an hour or more if you let him), but if you try to lie him down in his crib (assuming that he has fallen asleep), he will suddenly wake up and begin angrily crying, compelling you to pick him up again in order to quiet him down.

Stephen also has a quiescent state when he is contented to lie on his back, sometimes with a rather dreamy expression. Sometimes he lies still, although he frequently moves his arms and legs as if he were exercising them (he has chubby little legs). When he is in this mood, it is very pleasant to be with Stephen. He will smile if you come near him and will sometimes grasp my finger (with a strong grip) if I place it in his hand.

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Stephen's little smile (it is close to a half-smile) is endearing. His mouth curls upward slightly (usually on one side), and it opens slightly. He often smiles when he is lying in bed and I approach him. He also smiles occasionally if I rub his cheeks or the chest portion of his jersey. He also makes a gurgling sound when he is contented or happy to see you. I feel definitely that this sound represents some sort of attempt at communication.

Sometimes when we are busy and leave Stephen in his crib (he shares a bedroom with Henry) while he is awake and alert, I feel that he is lonely and wants to be with people. Last night at about 8 or 9 o'clock, he was lying in his crib. I went to see him several times and felt that he welcomed my presence, but I was in the midst of doing something, so I kept leaving the room. When I was out of the room, Stephen was making sounds that did not represent a cry and did not correspond to his contented gurgling. I felt that they represented a sort of urgent demand (not quite a whine) that he not be ignored.

Stephen cannot sit up or raise his head at all, which means that he has to lie flat on his back all day unless you are holding him or propping him up. I think he gets frustrated because he frequently can't see other people or what's going on around him. Sometimes we lie Stephen on the floor of the living room (with or without a bassinet), where he can watch what's going on around him.

If you are holding Stephen in your arms, he wants you (just like Henry did) to remain in a standing position. If you sit down while holding him, he usually becomes indignant and starts to cry (unless he is very sleepy).

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We have been trying occasionally to get Stephen to use a pacifier. He will take the rubber object into his mouth and looks contented when he is sucking on it, but it keeps falling out of his mouth and he doesn't know how to pick it up and put it back in again.

Stephen now has long eyelashes (like Henry's). He did not appear to have any eyelashes when he was born.

Saturday, September 19

On September 17, Stephen went to a pediatrician (Dr. Elzbieta Sawicki, who I believe is Polish born and educated) in Flushing, Queens for an examination. He weighed 17½ lbs., and his height was 25½ inches. (Henry weighed 17 lbs. and was 25½ inches long when he was three days short of being fourth months old.)

That means that in three months since he was born Stephen has gained 9 lbs., 6 ounces -- i.e., he has more than doubled his weight! His height has increased by 18.6%; he is 4 inches longer than his 21½ inches at birth.

The doctor said that Stephen was a little too chubby and overweight for his age. (She said his head size is normal.) She recommended not giving him as much milk and said that he could be given water and apple juice as well as milk. She also said that Stephen could begin having some rice cereal once a day, which would be his first solid food.

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Stephen had rice cereal yesterday (at his grandmother's) and today (at home). Stephen appears to enjoy the rice cereal. He just had some a few minutes ago (at about 8:15 A.M.). He was cranky (perhaps as a result of hunger) before having it, but he now appears to be contented lying in his bassinet on the floor of the living room, where Janet (who is sitting on a couch next to the bassinet) is watching a tape of a film of the opera "Carmen."

I watched Stephen being fed his rice cereal this morning. It is interesting to see that he doesn't know how to swallow. When Janet put[s] the spoon with the cereal in Stephen's mouth, he appears not to know what to do; having food in his mouth is a whole new sensation to him. Some of the cereal dribbles out of his mouth onto his chin.

Stephen has not stopped breastfeeding. He usually breastfeeds twice a day, which on weekdays means that he breastfeeds after Janet has finished work (he often breastfeeds in the early evening and in the very early morning, before dawn).

Two or three days ago, I was sitting on the couch with Stephen (I think he was on my lap). I propped him up in a sitting position and realized suddenly, a few minutes later, that I was not supporting his head and that he was able to hold it erect on his own.

Stephen is very lovable. He still gives me the same adorable smile (often when he sees me after an absence); it is becoming more of a broad, unmistakable smile. He wants very much to be held and cuddled and not to be left alone and ignored. One senses that he appreciates the opportunity to sit or lie in a position where he can see his environment and interact with others.

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Stephen enjoys it if I play with and stimulate him by talking to him, moving his arms and legs, touching him (sometimes gently poking him), putting my head close to him, or moving my head or hands in his field of vision. I have tried placing a rattle in his hands. He grasps it rather indifferently and sometimes inadvertently "shakes" it (i.e., when his hands happen to move) without making hardly any noise.

Stephen appears to be much more aware of his environment. (When he was little, he seemed much more oblivious to his surroundings.) On Thursday night (September 17), I was talking on the phone with Stephen's Aunt Carol. Stephen was lying in a bassinet on the living room floor several feet away. I got the uncanny feeling that he was staring at me from across the room and that he wanted me to pay attention to him. I frequently observe Stephen looking at me -- and "talking" through the means of distinctive gurgling and cooing sounds (they appear to be recognizable because he repeats the same types of sounds on different occasions) he makes -- as if he wanted to communicate with me. Stephen appears to be very alert, an observation that others who have seen his photograph have made.

When he is at his maternal grandparents' house in Maspeth, Queens, Stephen sleeps in a large baby carriage located in the living room.

At home, Stephen already is sleeping straight through the night most of the time. He usually goes to sleep for the night at about 9 P.M. and wakes up between 4 and 5.

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Monday, September 21

I forgot to indicate that Stephen had an oral polio vaccine (his first immunization of any type) when he went to the doctor's on September 17.

Stephen continues to seem more and more alert. Last night, I was watching the television in a standing position while holding Stephen in my arms. Suddenly, I noticed that Stephen seemed also to be watching the television.

Stephen seems to be more inclined now to want to be held in a position, such as propped up on my lap with the back of his head on my chest (a position he wouldn't have liked at an earlier stage), where he has an unobstructed view of his surroundings by looking straight ahead (as opposed, for example, to being held with his head resting on my shoulder, which he still likes when he's tired or in need of reassurance).

Stephen is having difficulty eating cereal. He doesn't yet know how to swallow.

He often appears to be ravenously hungry before the time for his next scheduled feeding (usually he is given a bottle at about three-hour intervals).

Stephen slept through the night last night (from about 10 P.M. to 5:30 A.M.) and woke up in a serene mood. He is a very good-natured baby; there is something sweet and accommodating about his disposition that is very affecting.

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Tuesday, September 22

The day before yesterday Henry made a loud burping sound and said "belch" to me (a word he learned from Janet). I asked him to repeat the word several times, which [he] did, and could not understand what he was saying. I corrected him by saying "burp" before realizing that he had used the right word.

About a week ago, I asked Henry what he had been doing with his paternal grandfather (his grandparents in Maspeth take care of him and Stephen every day when Janet is working). When I ask this question, Henry usually answers something like, "play with the [toy] cars." On this particular occasion, he answered something about a "samochód," a Polish word meaning "car." I didn't understand at all what he meant, until Janet pointed out that he was using a Polish word.

Recently, Henry came home one afternoon and said to me something about his paternal grandfather like, "can't find the hand truck." He said this several times during the evening, indicating that his grandfather's problem of not being able to find a hand truck had made an impression on Henry (this shows some awareness of and concern for other people's problems). But he also said quite emphatically (repeating it several times during the course of the evening) something like "grandpa don't cry" (contrasted with his statement that "he [dada] cry" because he "can't find the books").

As Henry was leaving the apartment this morning (with Janet and Stephen) to go to his grandparents' house, I asked him, "Where are you going, Henry?" He answered, "Baba's."

There was an amusing portion of a recent "Sesame Street" show which I taped that showed an "apple tree" puppet that shakes its branches

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and sheds apples (each apple falls with a whistling sound) for people to eat (this greatly amused Henry, who laughed out loud as each apple fell to the ground). On Sunday, September 20, we decided to go apple picking with the boys at an apple orchard in Warwick, New York. I told Henry we were going to see "real apple trees." This excited him. He said several times with excitement that we were going to see a "real apple tree."

Henry had a great time at the farm with the apple orchard. At first, he was industriously running around helping me to pick apples off the trees' lower branches (sometimes I lifted him up so that he do this) and the ground. Later, he lost interest somewhat in picking apples, although he was still having a good time. He looked very happy to be in the country and seemed to be thriving in the open air and wet, grassy fields (it was a damp, drizzly day).

At one point, Henry fell into a hole in the ground that I had also stumbled over. He was somewhat panicked for a moment (the hole was only a couple of feet deep) and asked me to rescue him. Later, I reminded him that he had fallen in a hole; he seemed to enjoy this.

When we were leaving the farm where the orchard was located, I showed Henry several large rabbits (he calls them "bunny") in a cage that he enjoyed seeing. He was even more interested in a tractor with a "shobel" (his pronunciation for "shovel") parked nearby. Some of his favorite books (those with cars and trucks) have pictures of tractors, and he has a toy bulldozer with a shovel.

On the evening of September 18, Henry had a sudden burst of sympathy for Stephen who was lying in his bassinet and was crying (Stephen was in a very cranky mood). Henry said, "Don't cry Baby Stephen." Then he said "make nice" (his term for patting someone on the

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head) while patting Stephen's head. He looked genuinely concerned for Stephen.

When we got home from the farm, Henry was in an excellent mood. He is always happy to come home and unwind on such occasions (he unwinds by playing with his toys and his parents and by looking at his books or watching television). He likes corn and enjoyed eating some fresh corn he bought with me. Following my example, he would pick up an ear of corn and say, "hi, corn" to it in a sweet, engaging way.

During the evening, Henry looked over at Stephen, who was in a bassinet on the living room floor, and said, "Hi, Baby Stephen. Love you."

Stephen was very cranky (he was crying almost continuously) last night, according to Janet. He was rather cranky this morning as well; I woke up at about six to hear him fussing and crying as Janet was getting him ready to leave for his grandparents'. A rubber pacifier seemed to calm Stephen down somewhat; he has gotten a little better at keeping the pacifier in his mouth, but it still tends to fall out often. Janet thinks that part of the reason for Stephen's crankiness may be that he has not been inclined to breastfeed for the past day or so; he may be reaching the stage (as did Henry at a slightly younger age) where he gives up breastfeeding altogether.

At times during the trip to the apple orchard, Stephen appeared to be quite alert (he sleeps a lot when we take him on trips). I was holding him in the back seat of the car on the way home (Janet was driving), and he appeared to enjoy communicating with me.

On the way home from the apple orchard, we stopped in a diner. Henry seems to like going to restaurants. He loves to have french fries, and his favorite beverage is a Pepsi.

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One somewhat annoying habit of Henry's (from the viewpoint of his parents) is that he is fascinated by the restrooms in public places and wants to make a trip to the restroom every few minutes. He made four or five trips to the restroom within the space of about a half an hour spent in the diner. I think he likes the whole process of going there, the attention he gets when one of us takes him there, and (above all) the fun of turning on the water faucet and washing his hands (often he is unable to reach the faucet and needs help). While driving to the orchard, Henry enjoyed pointing out (and having pointed out to him) the many American flags and school buses we saw en route. He usually gets excited when he sees a "city bus," a school bus, or an American flag and sometimes gets excited when he sees an airplane. These are some of his favorite sights.

Since Henry began to show an interest in "writing" (which amounts to scribbling at this stage in his development), we have purported to show him how to make a letter "H." I often say to him "H is for Henry." Whenever Henry sees a letter or a number (on a sign or the television screen, for example), he will excitedly say, "an H," which has become his generic term for all letters and numbers. Sometimes, he will also say, "H for Henry."

Henry got the word "greasy" associated in his mind with "bone" (he likes to chew on the bone of a piece of meat or chicken). Therefore, he says "greasy bone" when he wants to eat a bone. He uses the words "greasy" and "dirty" to indicate that something is in that condition (such as his hands being greasy or dirty) and needs to be cleaned.

When Stephen wears a bright blue cap of his (it was also worn by Henry), his blue eyes are highlighted very attractively.

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Wednesday, September 23

This morning, before leaving to go to his grandparents (and while walking to the car), Henry called me a "big bear" several times. I have no idea where he learned to say this. On the way to the garage, he stopped to point out (and correctly identified) a fire hydrant for me. Janet taught him the word yesterday on the way home from work.

Last night, Henry was talking on the telephone with his Aunt Carol. He also talked with me on the telephone earlier in the evening. In both cases, he was acting silly on the telephone, something he enjoys doing.

Usually, when Henry is in such a mood, he will begin his antics the minute he picks up the phone. He likes to make funny noises (by pressing his lips together) and short nonsense words like "gigo" and "sha-sha" (or "shi-shi"). He did these things for Carol's benefit; he also shouted "David" several times. He always laughs at his own antics. He also likes to push the buttons on the phone, which results in a funny beeping noise (he did this for my benefit last night).

Henry has apparently been refusing his bottle lately, according to his grandmother. He sometimes is truly hungry and eats with obvious relish, but he seems to me to be a very light eater in terms of the amount of food consumed overall. Sometimes on weekends, for example, he'll have only one or two bites of something (such as pancakes, cereal, or toast) for breakfast, will hardly eat any lunch, and will as a result have had practically nothing to eat by the time dinner time rolls around. He often eats "on the run" -- i.e., he'll snatch a bite from you here and there as he's watching television, looking at a book, or playing in the living room, but he won't actually sit down to eat.

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Last night, Henry woke up at about 4 A.M. with a bad dream (he ended up lying on the floor of his bedroom and insisted to Janet that he be allowed to go back to sleep in that position). He also woke up Stephen. Stephen seems to be sleeping quite soundly lately.

I have thought about the possibility, suggested by the Polish doctor in Flushing last week, that Henry may be a hyperactive child. I don't think he is, but I do think he has gotten a great deal of stimulation from adults (especially me, but also from his grandparents). From birth, he's been constantly surrounded by adults who have taken an active interest in him, which I think has accelerated his development. As a result, I think, Henry is a very inquisitive, highly responsive child; he represents the exact opposite of characteristics associated with lethargy or indifference to one's environment. He sometimes gets very excited by his surroundings or other people and is given to bursts of high spirits, but I've frequently seen him very contented and in harmony with his surroundings. When he is excited, he talks a lot, which I am sure is the result of my influence as well possibly as that of other individuals such as his grandmother. As regards my own influence, I think it is rather complex: I have undoubtedly stimulated the verbal and intellectual development of Henry (with whom I have been fortunate to have had a lot of close contact), but I have also been, for the most part, very relaxed and calm in his presence. I find him very enjoyable, indeed relaxing, to be with, and I don't get angry with him very often (if I do get upset with Henry, my anger is dissipated very quickly). Henry appears to feel very secure and to be very relaxed both in his home and when he [is] at his maternal grandparents' house.

It will be interesting to see how Henry develops. I don't think he will turn into a hyperactive, "Dennis the Menace" type child who is constantly annoying everyone (as he annoyed the doctor last week). Right now, Stephen appears to me to have a very sweet disposition.

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Monday, September 28

Henry's conversation is becoming more clear and comprehensible. (He is also speaking more slowly and deliberately.) One gets the impression that he is thinking more about each statement that he makes. His conversation now is more appropriate to the context in which it occurs. There are less non sequiturs, and he is less apt to make statements that are outrageously funny because they are clearly inappropriate. His conversation is more focused on whatever it is that concerns him at the moment. In short, it has more of an "adult" character.

Henry was delightful to be with last night. He really welcomed my company when I got home. (He was lying down in his bed with Janet, who was telling him stories, when I got home at about 10:30 P.M. He got up and came to the door in Janet's arms. He was very excited and gleeful to see me.)

We spent some time together looking at "The Truck Book," one of Henry's favorites. Whereas he formerly would point to pictures that he knows and blurt out the name of the object depicted (he still does this to an extent), he is more apt now to want you to convey information to him -- i.e., he will open to a page that he likes (such as a page showing vehicles such as a crane and a cement mixer on a construction job and one showing a bulldozer and other machines clearing out an area to make a road) and say "read," which means that he wants you to tell him about the picture. A picture is more of an integrated whole to him now, and he wants to learn as many details as possible. For example, when I pointed out some pipes and a shovel in the drawing of the construction site, he was very interested. He also spent a long time exploring with me the idea that there were two

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cranes in the picture of the construction site, that there is a hook on a crane that can be used to pick up cars or trucks (he brought his own toy crane over from the windowsill to demonstrate this to me), and that the bulldozer and a backhoe shown in the other picture were moving dirt from one place to another. A sort of colloquy goes on wherein Henry, for example, explains to me about the hooks or cranes or I point out that the machines are moving dirt and he amplifies on this idea. He will explain to me, for example, that one machine has a shovel to move the dirt, that the machines pick up dirt, and that they are "cleaning" the area ("cleaning" to him in this context means the action of scraping up dirt).

I tried brushing Henry's teeth last night (I am concerned that we have not been brushing his teeth regularly). He was enthused about the idea of getting his toothbrush and presumably about having his teeth brushed, but he didn't like the toothpaste. He told me quite unmistakably to stop brushing his teeth and that he didn't like it; he also explained very clearly that he didn't like the toothpaste -- i.e., that this was the reason that he didn't want me to brush his teeth.

This morning, we were watching a videotape of a "Sesame Street" program recorded earlier in the day. Henry particularly liked a segment in which a robot was depicted and wanted to see the segment over again. He surprised me by saying "put the tape back there" (i.e., [rewind it] to the segment with the robot in it, which we had just watched), indicating that he understood (and knew how to communicate to me his suggestion that this be done) that a tape can be rewound to a particular position of the program and that it can be played back.

While we were watching television, Henry said to me "you have a penis, dada" (or something to that effect). Then he said that he was "a woman," but on further reflection he changed this to indicate that he was "a man." He also said that his mother was "a woman."

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Henry is constantly inventing new games. Last night, for example, I was lying in bed with him telling stories. He endearingly said something to me like "good night, dada" and gave me his cheek to kiss after explaining to me that he wanted to go lie down with his mommy. Then he got up and went into Janet's room after firmly closing the door of his room behind him. But each time he would return, open the door, and get into bed with me to repeat the whole process ("good night, dada," the kiss, the closing of the door, etc.) over again. I finally stopped the game by going into our bedroom and lying down on the bed with Janet. Henry joined us in bed and eventually told me in a gentle fashion, "Go away, dada," meaning that he wanted to sleep undisturbed on our bed. He often likes to wind up sleeping close to his mother.

Another game that Henry likes (he uses the words "play the game" to refer to it) is to climb up on someone's back (usually mine or Janet's) when they are in a bent over position and to slide over the top of that person's head before landing on the couch or a floor. Usually I grab Henry as he is sliding over my head and tumble him over so that he does a complete flip before returning to an upright position. He finds this very amusing and will do it over and over again.

Stephen and Henry went to Captree State Park (a beach area on Long Island) the day before yesterday. Stephen has beautiful rosy cheeks.

Stephen appears to be becoming much more aware of the presence or absence of his parents. Several times recently, I have been playing with him at times when he appears to enjoy my company greatly only to have him become very upset when I leave the room. But as soon as I return, he becomes calm again. Previously, there appeared to be less of a direct connection between when you left or entered his presence and his changes in mood. He seems to be becoming more emotionally demanding -- i.e., he

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lets you know that he wants your company in addition to having physical needs that must be satisfied.

Stephen appears to like it when he is lying on his back and I vigorously shake his legs as a form of exercise. In general, he seems to tire more easily if lying on his back and seems to want to vary his position more often. He also wants to be in a place and a position where he has an unobstructed view of what's going on around him in the room.

I have held Stephen near a television set recently and have gotten the impression that he is watching the screen.

Thursday, October 1

When Henry came home yesterday, he watched television for a while and then became very boisterous. When Stephen is getting a lot of attention, Henry will act up and make demands on you. For example, while I was giving Stephen his bottle on the couch today, Henry kept climbing up on my back (while putting his arms around my neck), then attempting to roll over me (one of his favorite recreational activities, which he designates with the words "play the game"); in the process, he half landed on Stephen a few times (glancing off his legs and arms). At another point, when he saw Janet holding Stephen, he told her to get him (Henry) something or do something for him (I forget which). He often seems to demand something of Janet that requires her (assuming that she does what he requested) to put Stephen down in order to attend to Henry.

Henry also said to me, while I was holding Stephen in my arms:

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Baby Stephen wants Mommy. Give him to Mommy [i.e., get rid of him]. Baby Stephen wants Dada.*

I sensed that Henry would benefit from spending some time with me (I have been busy and am not home most afternoons and evenings since school started), so I took him out with me to the playground. He was very happy to be there; it is wonderful to watch him run around and to see him at play.

By instructing me to climb up the ladder of the slide, etc., Henry indicated to me that he wanted to play a game with me that we had only played on one other occasion (on September 18), in which Henry and I both climb up the ladder to the top of the slide, he sits in my lap, and we slide down together. When we last played this game about two weeks ago, we would look around us when we were sitting at the top of the slide (and were about to slide down) and I or Henry would point to things and identify them -- such as a big fan on the side of one of the buildings in our complex. Henry would proudly look over at Janet (who was sitting on a bench watching us) and say, "Hi, Mommy," as I had done for Henry's benefit. I was very surprised that this time Henry, who obviously remembered the previous time quite clearly, said something when we were sitting together on top of the slide this evening about the fan and then said, "I say hi to Mommy" (Janet was not with us this time).

Before going to the playground, Henry and I went to the laundry room briefly. A boy [Paul Swenson] who is approaching four years of age

* *This last sentence exhibits a logical confusion that Henry's speech sometimes exhibits. He'll sometimes make a series of sensible statements and then contradict it, without any hesitation, by saying something totally the reverse at the conclusion of his statement.

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came to the laundry room with his mother; he has deliberately frightened Henry in the past.

Henry crept closer to me and called my name, asking me to pick him up because he was afraid of the boy. But once he was in my arms (he stayed there for the minute or two that the boy was in his presence), he became merry and was laughing at the antics of the boy (who was trying to amuse Henry) and was trying to tell him things.

When I came home yesterday afternoon, Henry was playing with a pot from the kitchen. He was sitting on it and calling it a "potty" (toilet). Then he said, "It's too small, that potty. I can't sit on that potty." I found it interesting that Henry has a conception of the relative sizes of physical objects.

Henry made an interesting statement to me shortly after I got home yesterday afternoon. He said, "I'm at home. Dada's at home. You're at home." He understands the concept of being at home, and he extended it to include me as well as himself.

Yesterday morning, Henry made one of his habitual statements -- "maybe I go see Baba" -- when he got up, which indicates that he wants and hopes to see his grandparents (he goes there every weekday with Stephen during the school year). When we pulled up at Henry's grandparents' house at about 7:15 A.M. yesterday morning, he shouted, "Grandpa" in anticipation; his grandfather, who comes out every day to escort him from the car to the house, had not appeared yet (Janet's mother also comes out each day to get Stephen). He was very happy to see his grandfather; he shouted "grandpa" and scurried out of the car without paying any attention to Janet or me. This is customary. He is so excited (and happy) when he gets to his grandparents' (they treat him with tender loving care) that he can't wait to get inside; he experiences no "separation

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anxiety" in leaving his mother (usually I am not in the car) for the day, although he is happy to see her when she comes in the afternoon to pick him up.

I asked Henry yesterday what he had done at "baba's" and he answered as usual, "play the cars [played with my cars] with grandpa." He pronounces "grandpa" quite correctly now.

Henry seemed to be in an exuberant mood this morning; he repeated the word "happy" several times. Stephen was smiling broadly at Janet and me while he was in the carriage in the hallway and while he was being transported to the car.

Stephen seems to have a cranky period every evening (around dinnertime) when it [is] hard to please him. He wants to be held, but often gets restless in your arms. He will lie briefly in a bassinet, but then begins to feel constrained by it. If you lie him in his bed, he becomes very upset (he doesn't want to be left alone). He wants his bottle but often has an upset stomach (apparently caused by gas) afterwards and burps up some of his milk or gets hiccoughs. Stephen is still breastfeeding to a limited extent.

Here's a fragment of Henry's conversation on September 24:

HENRY: You had a bad dream, dada. [I had a bad dream the night before, which I believe Janet had alluded to.] . . . Mommy, I love you.

ME: My honey, my best boy.

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HENRY: My funny goose. My goose [repeats "goose" over and over].* Find my goose. . . . [An annoying anti-theft siren goes off on a car outside.] What's that noise?

ME: It's a car, Henry.

HENRY: Horn. It's a horn. Car made that noise. I don't like that noise. Car made that noise, Dada. . . . [sees my watch on the dining room table] Watch go tick-tick, dada. On my ear. [He likes to hold a watch to his ear to hear it tick.] Go tick-tick, on my ear. . . . [points to corner near the living-room couch in which a lamp is standing] That's where [?] the bad dream. Over there. Light fell down.* . . . I want to eat that apple. Peel it [i.e., the skin] off. . . . Vacuum cleaner store. Vacuum cleaner fixed in this store, dada.**

Janet usually brings Henry a bottle around five in the morning or so; he lies there with his eyes closed drinking it in the semidarkness. Sometimes Henry is still sleeping when Janet dresses him as well.

* *Henry has a book about a goose, but he usually calls it a "silly goose."* *Henry had a bad dream this summer about a "light falling down."* **Several weeks ago, we took the vacuum cleaner to a store to have it repaired.

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Wednesday, October 7

Yesterday morning, Stephen was beaming at me. He was lying in his crib at about 6-6:30 A.M. after having been fed (his milk comes mostly from a bottle, although he is still doing a limited amount of breastfeeding), and he looked adorable dressed in a dark red parka with a hood. He has the most beautiful, sweet smile.

I woke up this morning around six or so and heard Stephen crying loudly. I believe Janet was making his bottle. I wanted to get up and go into Stephen's bedroom, but I was physically exhausted and drifted back to sleep. Later Janet brought Stephen into our bedroom and laid him on the bed, where I played with him briefly. He was smiling intermittently and seemed very happy. Janet commented that he was much happier than he had been when he first woke up and that he had undoubtedly wanted company. Stephen seemed to like the close physical proximity to me (he might have been more likely to be either unaware of my presence or slightly afraid of my movements when he was younger). He seems to like it when I jiggle him around by shaking his arms or legs and when I try to get his attention and amuse him.

On Sunday, October 4, I took Henry for a brief walk to the store before going to the library for the day. Henry, who was wearing a thick red sweater and a cap but no jacket, insisted on taking his toy robot with him. He looked very cute carrying the robot. It was very blustery and unusually cold for this time of year, and Henry said, "Robot's cold." I felt remiss for not having put Henry's jacket on.

While we were walking back from the store, Henry tripped and fell on the sidewalk. The robot's plastic gun came detached from its hand. Henry asked me to fix the toy by putting the gun back where it belonged (he said something like, "put it [the gun] in there" [i.e., in the robot's hand]). Shortly

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after I did this, another piece of plastic came detached from the robot and fell to the sidewalk. I was trying to fix it for Henry but wasn't sure where the piece went and asked Henry something like, "Where does it go?" He pointed to the exact spot where the missing piece belonged and said something like "in there."

After we got home, Henry was playing with magnetic blocks that his Uncle Pete gave him (last night he referred to one of the blocks as "Uncle Pete's magnet"). I was quite surprised when I looked over to see what he was doing and found that he had assembled a "car" out of the blocks (by putting the square and rectangular blocks in the right place and using round blocks for wheels). He or I had done this once or twice before (I believe the instructions or a picture on the box showed you how to assemble a car out [of] the blocks), but in a rather haphazard fashion. I had never seen him go about it so systematically and was surprised that he could assemble the car all by himself, putting the various parts in the correct relationship to one another so that the wheels were in the proper place, etc.

When I walked into the living room on Sunday morning (October 4), quite preoccupied with my own problems, Henry, who was watching "Sesame Street" on television (he likes to have company while doing so), said quite distinctly and succinctly, "Sit down, Dada." He also made this interesting comment:

Baby Stephen has doo-doo. He can't go on potty. Little boys go on potty.

Yesterday morning, Henry woke up in a very cheerful, playful mood. He seemed glad to see me. (I have been busy and have not been home a lot.) I told him that I had bought a book for him (which I had found on sale) the day before yesterday. It was a Landmark Books biography of Ben

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Franklin that I thought Henry would enjoy when he is older. (I had a biography of Ben Franklin that I loved as a child, and I believe it was in the Landmark Books series.)

Ten minutes after I had mentioned the book to Henry, he asked me something about the book, indicating that he wanted to see it. Janet and I had been very active in the boys' bedroom getting them dressed, playing with them, and talking with them, and I was surprised that with everything else Henry remembered that I said I had gotten him a book. (He looked at the cover of the book, but it was too much of an older kid's book, which I tried to explain to him, to excite his interest.)

Last night, Henry and I were looking together at a book with a picture of a train, which he usually calls a "choo-choo train." For amusement, he started calling it a "choo train." He kept asking me to point to the train and ask him the standard question, "what's that?" Then he would answer "choo train" and burst out laughing.

I was waiting with the car this morning when Henry, Stephen, and Janet came out the front door of our building on the way to Janet's parents' house (it was a dreary, drizzly morning). Henry spied me on the other side of the street from the vestibule in the building; he smiled and began to run towards the door. When he met up with me on the sidewalk, he said something like, "I saw you [additional words indicating "over there"], Dada."

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Sunday, October 18

Henry was quite sick a week and a half ago. He developed a fever (he felt like he was burning up when you touched his forehead) and on the first night (October 7), he was somewhat delirious: He was awake on and off all night and was making incoherent statements. Henry's illness lasted from October 7 to around October 11. During this time, he ate very little and consumed a lot of soda (Orangina). He has in general been eating quite lightly as of late; it is often difficult to get him to eat.

Henry kept going to his grandmother's while he was sick. On the morning of October 8, despite being up for part of the night on account of his fever, he looked very cheerful as he came walking out of our building in the early morning darkness (it was about 6:30 A.M.). I was waiting on the street with the car for Janet and the boys. Henry saw me through the window of the vestibule to our building (I was standing alongside the car). He cheerfully said "I found you, Dada," when he approached me, and he also said, "I'm sick, Dada." On the morning of October 9, he told me, "I got a fever, and I'm sick, Dada."

During the following week, Stephen also got sick. He seemed to be feverish and was experiencing congestion. He was making loud noises, especially during the night, that sounded either like a cough or like he was trying to clear his lungs. Fortunately, the illness went away of its own accord after several days.

I have been quite busy with school and away from home a lot. On Friday evening, October 16, I came home earlier than usual (at about 6:30 P.M.). When I rang the bell to our apartment, Henry shouted with delight. I came into the living room where Henry was playing and Stephen was lying stretched out on the couch. Stephen smiled broadly when he saw me. Not wanting to hurt Henry's feelings since he had given me such an

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enthusiastic greeting, I went over to pick up and hug Henry first. Stephen, perhaps coincidentally, began bawling at that very moment. After hugging Henry, I went over and picked up Stephen, who loves to be held. (He gets very upset when you put him down.)

Henry was very happy to have me home. After dinner, I took him to the "tape store" to rent a movie. On the way home, we went to the playground and stayed there for about forty-five minutes or so, even though it was dark. We had a wonderful time together. At one point, Henry was climbing on the monkey bars. He said something about how the other kids climb up to the top of the bars, indicating that he wanted to do so too (when he made this statement, he was actually trying to climb the pole in the middle of the bars that goes all the way to the top).

Henry and I played the game where he sits on my lap and we slide down the slide together (he also went down the slide by himself). He remembered details from the time when we had first played this game together (on September 18) -- he pointed out the place on the side of one of the buildings where we had noticed a fan the first time we played at sliding down together (the fan was not visible in the darkness this time) and said something to indicate that Janet should be present (she had been sitting on a bench watching us the first time we played the game). Henry also had fun playing with a hockey stick (which I told him the name of) and with dirt. Henry never seems to forget a new word that I teach him (such as "hockey stick").

When we got home, Henry and I watched "Sesame Street" together for a while. Finally (at about eleven), Janet and I told Henry he had to go to bed. When Henry is having a good time (as he was on this evening), he strenuously resists any attempt to put him to bed. He wants so badly to prolong whatever it is he's doing. If you approach him with the idea of putting him to bed, he will become frantic and desperate and will pursue

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the activity he is engaged in with even greater intensity. Once you get him into bed, however, he usually settles down pretty quickly.

When I hold Stephen, he is very responsive and smiles at me adorably. He seems to be a very peaceful, docile, sweet, and agreeable baby. (It is soothing and restful to be in his presence.) I have inadvertently held Stephen once or twice in front of a mirror lately (such as a large mirror in the vestibule of our building and a vanity mirror in our bedroom), and I felt that he was looking at his reflection.

About a week ago, I put on Stephen's cap and took him with me on a short trip to the corner newspaper store. It was a brisk, clear fall day, and Stephen looked very cute. I think he enjoyed going with me. The combination of his being held and your walking seems to soothe him, and I sense that he likes looking around.

If you gaze at Stephen, he will frequently look back at you, but his eyes often wander all over the place. He also tends to [unintelligible word] his mouth and make funny expressions. Often he will look at me when I'm not looking directly at him.

Stephen looks a lot like Henry did at his age.

Stephen got his first pair of baby shoes (they are white) about a week ago. He stopped breastfeeding entirely about two to three weeks ago.

On the afternoon of October 9, Henry came into the bedroom, where I had a lot of papers piled up that were part of a writing project I was working on. He said to me, "I want to do my study [i.e., do studying, like I do], with my papers." The following morning, as I was preparing to leave home for the library, Henry said to me, "You can't go to school. Maybe you

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stay home." Later in the day, when I was in the library, he said to Janet, "I wish he home. I wish he could stay home."

I was out all night on October 10 completing a freelance writing assignment in an office at school. When I came home at about 1 P.M. on the following day (a Sunday), Henry was very happy to see me.

Henry was lying in our bed with Janet (who was about to take a nap) when I got home, but he got up immediately, as if to indicate that he really wasn't that interested in sleeping and had only lied down out of boredom. I asked him, "You want to lie down with Mommy?" and he answered, "No, I'm by you."

It was a damp, chilly day, and Henry, who was not dressed warmly, apparently felt cold indoors. His way of expressing this was cute. He said, "My shirt is cold." However, he wouldn't let me put a sweater on him.

I had some dinner with Henry. I was cutting up meat (pork chops) for him, and he was eating rather heartily for a change. He also initiated a game of his own devising, which consisted of him putting a fork on the top of his head. Then he would say, "I put the fork on my head, Dada" and laugh hysterically. (I always pretend to be shocked to discover the fork on Henry's head, which heightens Henry's amusement.)

In the evening, I was studying in our bedroom (books and papers were spread all over the bed). Henry came into the room and said while playing with the papers, "I do my study too, Dada."

One grammatical construction that I noticed Henry use on that day was "give me one," which he said when he wanted me to hand him a coin.

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On October 9, Henry noticed, in a position rather high up on the bookshelf (where he couldn't reach), a paperback book on Ben Franklin that I had bought for him four days earlier. Without hesitation, he said to me, "That's Henry's book."

I have been taping shows of "Sesame Street," his favorite program, for Henry. He knows and can identify by name many of the puppet characters. His favorite character seems to be Big Bird. He has an uncanny ability, once he has seen a program once or twice, to tell you exactly what is going to happen in a scene when the tape is played back to him. Often there will be a skit where something unusual or surprising happens. Henry always seems to know what's coming (and will gleefully tell you), which to me is another indication of his excellent memory.

Monday, October 19

Last night, when I got home at about 11:30 P.M., I heard Henry's melodious, boyish (but no longer babyish) voice from our bedroom calling, "Dada." Janet seemed to be asleep, but Henry, who was standing by the bed, was not. He seemed eager for companionship.

Henry said something to me like "I was sleeping in my bed . . . in Henry's bed." Apparently, he had been sleeping before, but had gotten up and gone into our bedroom.

I had some trouble with the car earlier in the day and had decided to put some antifreeze and water in the radiator. I asked Henry if he would like to go downstairs with me. He was very excited to go; he said gleefully, "I go outside!"

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I said something about carrying Henry, but he made a very good suggestion on his own, that I put him in the carriage. I wheeled him outside in his pajamas; he had no coat or shoes on but did not seem not mind. He was happy to be wheeled along in the carriage and was delighted when he realized that he was being taken to the garage.

He talked sweetly to me all the time. Several times he said "put water in the samochód," using the Polish word for car (he also calls it a "car").

When I had arrived home, Henry had said something about "The Little Red Caboose," one of his favorite books. As he was being wheeled back to the apartment, he reminded me that he wanted to look at "The Little Red Caboose" and I said that, since he had been such a good boy and such [good] company, I would keep my end of the bargain and let him stay up a little longer to look at books.

We looked mostly at one of Henry's truck books. Henry is very good at identifying the names of all sorts of trucks that the average person would have trouble distinguishing between -- such as a glazier's truck that is depicted in the book. At one point, he incorrectly identified one of the trucks as a "high-lift truck," which is also depicted on the same page. I explained to him that it was not a high-lift truck but that I would show him the high-lift truck. Before I had a chance to do so, he point the high-lift truck out to me.

After a while, when Henry got tired of identifying the trucks, he started calling them all a "gigo" (a joke of his) and another nonsense word I forget. I got him to bed without much difficulty.

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Henry was sleeping in the carriage when we wheeled him to the car (for the trip to his grandparents') at about quarter of seven this morning. Stephen was wide awake, dressed with new shoes and an adorable corduroy cap. He smiled once at me (he seems very alert).

Saturday, October 24

Stephen went to the pediatrician yesterday. He had a diphtheria shot (he did not cry at all when the shot was administered) and seems a little cranky today.

Stephen's weight was 19 lbs., 2 oz., and his height was 27½ inches. This means (assuming that the measurements are accurate) that Stephen has grown by 26 ounces (9.3%) and 2 inches (7.9%) since he last went to the doctor's five weeks ago.

I got home shortly after 8 P.M. on Thursday evening, October 22. Henry was excitedly playing with a big new toy fire truck that Janet had bought for him in a toy store in Astoria, Queens that afternoon. I know Henry's mood when he is really happy; you can sense the inner contentment that he exudes and that has been welling up within him. It is a pleasure to see him so happy.

When Henry gets a new toy, he usually wants to "take stock" of all the other toys he has, to "inventory" and savor all his possessions. His old toys have a new-found (though transitory) interest for him. He asked me to get his choo-choo train, a toy truck, a game that he plays with felt cut-outs of shapes like triangles and squares, and his "buy box" down from the high shelf in the closet where they are kept. He hasn't played with any of these

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toys in weeks, but the fire truck provided the stimulus for a renewed interest in his other toys.

Last night, while Stephen and Janet were at the doctor's, Henry I played outside for a while. He has started riding his toy bicycle (which he pushes along with his feet on the sidewalk) again. He made up a game wherein we would walk to the corner and then he would leave me and walk halfway down the block, where he would "find" my car (which he calls the "new car," to distinguish it from Janet's car), which was parked at the curb. The game started when we walked past the car in the course of our walk. Before we got there, I said to Henry that we were about to see the "new car," which got him excited. He was pleased when we actually "found" the car as I had predicted.

Henry continues to look and act older. I am struck, as always, by his keen observation of his surroundings and his excellent memory.

Last night, Henry was very tired. When he is that tired, he is almost always upset by the time he goes to bed. He was jealous because I and then Janet were holding Stephen while in the bedroom with him, and he angrily told us to put Stephen down.

When you ask Henry a question like "want to make some pipi?" or "want some food?" or make a request like "give me a kiss" and he happens to be doing something else and does not want to be interrupted, he has a characteristic way of responding. In response to the question or request, he'll say without any hesitation something like, "I'm playing with the fire engine" or "I'm riding my bike," which means "no, I don't want to do what you suggested and I don't want to be interrupted in what I'm doing." He rejects the intrusion out of hand and doesn't give your question or suggestion a moment's thought.

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Henry has apparently been eating animal crackers at his grandparents'. During the last couple of days, he's said things to me like "I ate the elephant" (or hippopotamus), "I break the elephant" (or hippopotamus).

I asked Henry on Thursday evening (October 22) what he had done with his grandfather during the day. He said, "I was in the garage with Grandpa, I put rocks in the pail with Grandpa."

He also said some interesting things while we were looking at pictures in his books. At one point, he ejaculated, "pick pumpkins with the pick-up truck." I found the unintended alliteration amusing. (He has a picture of a farmer putting pumpkins into the back of a pickup truck in one of his books, although he was not looking at the picture when he said these words.)

We were looking at a picture of a rake, a word that I believed Henry to be unfamiliar with. I said something to him like "rake" and "leaves" (leaves were also depicted in the picture). Henry said "clean it" (meaning that the rake "cleans," or sweeps up, the leaves). I said, "That's right, clean the leaves." Henry replied to my surprise, "so does the broom." I found it interesting that he was able to make the connection between the functions performed by a rake and those of a broom.

We were looking at a picture of a school bus in one of Henry's books. In recognition of the fact that the doors open on Henry's toy school bus (whereas they do not on his toy Greyhound bus), I said, "the doors open." Henry replied, "No, the door's not open. It's closed." I thought this was a rather elaborate expression of a complete thought for a child of Henry's age. Note the sentence structure.

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We were looking at a picture of a glazier's truck in Henry's truck book. Henry knows the correct name, but when I asked him "what's that?" he replied "railroad station" (an interesting non sequitur) as a way of being funny.

We also played with the game with felt cut-outs, in which a shape such as a circle, triangle, or square is placed in its proper position in a hole cut out in a piece of felt. I noticed that Henry has become much more proficient at recognizing different shapes. Basically, he knows where the circle, triangle, square, etc. go (i.e., he can match the triangle cutout with the triangular shaped hole), whereas several weeks ago he had absolutely no idea where the different shapes went. I still have to help Henry somewhat, especially with the actual fitting of the shape into the hole.

Henry is still taking a bottle (he has one at about five or six in the morning, a little while before he gets up, and he has one usually when he goes to bed), but he is on the whole drinking a lot less milk now.

Apparently, Stephen's grandmother has commented that he is easier than Henry was at the same age to take care of (he's quiet and less fussy). I found Henry to be a very agreeable baby, but I do notice that Stephen is especially good-natured.

When I walk around the city, I occasionally picture to myself Stephen's cute, radiant smile, with the edges of his mouth turned up like a jack-o-lantern's. Henry had a similar smile at the same age.

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Wednesday, October 28

This morning when I got up, I heard Henry, who was already awake, saying "Dada" to Janet. He seemed to want to see me. But when I went to Henry's room and lay down on his bed next to him, he was upset and wanted me to go away. He was jealous because Stephen was getting attention from Janet.

Henry amused himself by gathering up stacks of papers of mine from our bedroom and bringing them into his bedroom where he gleefully piled them up on the floor. We eventually ended up playing with Henry's toy car and trucks on the floor. He lined up his toy buses ("city bus" and school bus), Coca-Cola truck (which he calls a "Pepsi-Cola" truck), crane, ambulance, airplane, helicopter, caboose, and a toy car in a neat row, one after the other, as if they were all cars on a train, and then would push them from behind. Of course, the row would not move forward exactly; the individual toys would be scattered from side to side, whereupon Henry would line them up and repeat the process again.

At one point, Henry opened the door of the school bus and tried to put his toy [horse?] into the bus. He didn't understand that the [horse] was far too big to fit through the door.

Henry loves to play in the garage with his grandfather. He likes playing with the wagon and hand-truck in the garage.

Stephen is always in a good mood in the morning. He usually wakes up sometime before six and is happy to see me; I am almost guaranteed of getting a big smile from him. On Monday morning, I held Stephen for forty-five minutes or so. He enjoys this immensely and likes it when I put him on our bed and play with him. He likes to look around the room and also to be

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able to see your face. I held him next to a mirror at his eye level this morning and saw him gazing at his and my reflection.

We took the boys to Captree, a seaside park area in Long Island, on Sunday, October 25. It was a real pleasure to see Henry enjoying himself in the playground they have there. It was a gorgeous day, cool and brilliantly clear. (Henry was wearing a new red parka.) I think the wind and the exposure bothered Stephen slightly, although the fresh air undoubtedly did him good.

One of Henry's favorite activities is to play with sand. He likes to scoop it up with his hands or a shovel and then to throw it somewhere. He spent a long time, for example, scooping up the sand and throwing it on the bottom of a slide. Henry also enjoys the toy horse (and other animals such as pelican) for children to ride on that are in the playground. He didn't actually ride on them this time, but he did try to "feed" the toy horse by attempting to put sand in its mouth. He was telling the "horse" to open its mouth so he could "feed" it sand.

Before we got to the playground, I asked Henry if he wanted to feed the seagulls some hot dog rolls left over from a visit we all made to the snack bar. He emphatically said something like "play with the horsie," meaning that he was not interested in seagulls at that moment and was intent on playing with the toy horse in the playground. Henry tends lately to have one goal firmly in mind; he does not want anything to intrude or to distract him when he is pursuing such a goal.

On our way back to the car later in the afternoon, we saw some fresh fish for sale that were piled up in wicker baskets. Henry liked seeing and touching the fish; he also liked seeing the fishing boats at the dock.

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When we were about to leave, we saw a dog that had been locked up in a car (with one of the windows slightly ajar). The dog was jumping up and down and barking because it wanted to accompany its owner, who had just left the car. Henry seemed genuinely concerned about the dog (he made several comments about its plight).

While at home on Sunday, Henry and I were watching television. During a "Sesame Street" program, there was a song about the alphabet. I asked Henry if he wanted me to tell him about the alphabet. Then I said to him "A, B, C." He looked at me with that proud, knowing look he has when he is in the know about something and responded, "E, F, G."

Henry very much likes the Walt Disney movie "Dumbo," a tape of which was given to us last week by one of Janet's colleagues at work. Henry calls the tape "the present" because it was a gift from Janet's friend. Certain parts in the movie, which Henry has seen at least five or six times already, scare him, such as a scene where some nasty little boys (called "the bad boys" by Henry) taunt Dumbo (or his mother?). It is necessary to fast forward past these scenes so that Henry is not upset by them. Henry loves a scene that depicts some mouses, who are (according to Henry) eating peanuts (I haven't actually seen the film).

Henry's excellent memory continues to impress me. His recall of newly learned words is excellent. On Sunday night, we saw a tape of a "Sesame Street" program that featured a cartoon depicting a scuba diver. Henry said "scuba diver" without any hesitation. Janet says that she has never used the word "scuba diver" with Henry. I had watched this particular tape with him once before (about a week previously), at which time I taught him the word "scuba diver." He used the word two or three times on that one occasion, and to my knowledge had never used or heard it at any other time.

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I noticed while at the beach that Henry appears to be more verbal than many children who are a year or so older than him. He is constantly pointing to things and identifying them, or describing his environment and explaining what is happening at a particular moment. Most other children seem in comparison to be much more inert and passive, verbally speaking. Henry seems to have a strong need to explain, relate, and narrate what he sees, thinks, and feels and to communicate verbally with others.

We have been trying, unsuccessfully for the most part, to institute a regimen of brushing Henry's teeth. (I don't think we have made enough of an effort in this regard.) He usually resists having his teeth brushed (although this morning he seemed to accept Janet's doing it). Apparently, the main reason (which he himself gave to me) is that he doesn't like the taste of toothpaste.

Stephen seems to be teething. His gums feel very hard and sharp, and he likes to bite on my fingers. (Occasionally he sucks and chews on his own fingers.)

Stephen has been wearing baby shoes (almost brand new ones inherited from Henry) for two or three weeks now. (He wears them only when he goes outside.)

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Sunday, November 8

Yesterday (my forty-first birthday), I left our apartment at a little after 8 A.M. with the intention of going to the library to study. Henry was very loving toward me. He gave me a kiss when he got up (lately he has not been receptive to being kissed), and when I was leaving, he kissed me again and said "bye-bye, Dada."

I got stuck in a traffic jam on the way to the City and decided to return home. Henry was very happy to see me. I felt that he needed me.

In the afternoon, Janet and I took both boys to the playground. (All morning, Henry had been saying that he wanted to go to the playground with me.) Henry had a temper tantrum when we got outside -- he ended up, as he often does when having a tantrum, lying prone on the concrete -- so we put him in the carriage, whereupon he almost immediately fell asleep (he seems to be prone to having tantrums when he's overtired).

Henry slept throughout our entire trip of an hour and a half or so to the park; Stephen, whom I got very tired carrying on my shoulder, was awake part of the time.

Stephen went to sleep at about seven-thirty or so that evening. I took Henry with me to do the laundry and then for a walk to the video store (called "tape store" by Henry) to return two movies Janet had rented.

After we had returned from the park, Henry had said something to the effect that he wanted to play on the slides and play with his pail and shovel at the playground -- i.e., he was aware of and regretted having missed out on the experience of the playground. I sensed that he had a lot of pent-up energy and would enjoy a walk to the "tape store" with me. On the way to the store, Henry was playing a game of scampering off into the

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courtyards and vestibules of apartment buildings and the stairs leading to private houses; he would then sit down, say "Dada, I'm afraid," and expect me to come rescue him (it's all part of a game). But by the time we got to the tape store, Henry was tired. He often gets angry if you try to carry him (he likes to be independent and walk), but he was content to have me carry him home.* When we got into the tape store, Henry ran around like a madman taking the plastic tape containers off the shelves and throwing them on the floor. I picked him up to prevent any more mischief on his part. When we left the store, Henry said to me that he wanted to "play the game," to run around and cavort in the aisles of the store, which always involves me chasing him. In other words, he realized that he had missed out on the opportunity to do this in the store. Note how he is developing an ability to express himself when the outcome of an event doesn't match his expectations.

When we got home (after we had put the laundry in the dryer), I asked Henry several times if he wanted to go to sleep. (He had been rubbing his eyes, and I knew he was tired.) He said, "no, want to watch TV," or "no, want to watch 'Sesame Street,'" or "no, want to watch Big Bird." I put a tape of "Sesame Street" on for him and he got into one of his contented, relaxed, and very lovable moods. The contentment and relaxation were a result of the fact that he was totally absorbed in the television program. When he gets in these moods, you can see his worries and fears dissipating and see his defenses melting away. He asked me to bring him a cookie (Janet had made some bran and raisin cookies earlier in the day), and he munched on it contentedly and absent mindedly (he would absent mindedly hold it in his hand for a while before stuffing it in his

* *Henry is not capable of taking long walks. After a few blocks, he gets tired and needs to be put in the carriage or carried. He often sits upright in the carriage with his hands on the handlebars while Stephen is sleeping in the rear portion of the carriage.

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mouth) after cramming his mouth full with a big chunk. He was absent mindedly leaning his body against mine and resting his arm on my leg (I love the feeling when he does this). He asked me to get him some Orangina and contentedly sipped on his bottle and watched TV. I got him to bed with very little difficulty.

Stephen is becoming more aware of and responsive to his parents. He is a good natured, uncomplaining baby and is a pleasure to take care of. His broad, good natured smile reminds me of my own. He is very handsome and has a sweet, chubby face. He is already getting too big for a medium-sized diaper (which is supposed to fit babies up to 27 pounds) and is wearing clothes that are intended for much older babies, including clothes that Henry was wearing when he was several months older than Stephen.

Stephen does not seem to have grown much hair since he was born. According to Janet, he can roll over in bed now. He can't sit up, but he can more or less hold his head up if you put him in a sitting position. He is reaching out with his hands and trying to grasp things (such as my fingers, which he tries to grab and stick into his mouth). When you hold him and gaze at him, he sometimes looks right at you and often smiles; at other times, his eyes roam without a definite focus and his open mouth gives him a somewhat dumbfounded expression.

Stephen seems to be teething. He sometimes will stick his own fingers or an object such as a pillow into his mouth and press it against his gums; he is constantly drooling, which means that the top of his jersey often becomes damp. He has a funny habit of playing with his blanket or pillow and often pulling it over his head, which results in his getting confused and making noises until someone comes to rectify the situation.

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In addition to baby cereal, Stephen is now eating mashed bananas. (He has been allowed to have them as of the last week or two ago.) He drinks eight-ounce bottles now (compared to six ounces previously).

Stephen will occasionally shout out loudly now when he wants something. (It sounds more like someone loudly clearing his throat than an actual shout.)

I took Stephen with me to the newspaper store today. Janet bundled him up in his light blue snowsuit (previously Henry's) and put his hat on, although it turned out not to be very cold outside. I sensed that Stephen enjoyed going with me, and I observed him looking around with apparent fascination. When we got home, I held Stephen in front of the big mirror in the vestibule, and it seemed that he was impressed by seeing himself close up in the mirror, although he didn't know quite what to make of it. Stephen likes it now when I hold him up in front of me and look right at him. He also seems to like it when I bounce him up and down.

Henry loves to devise his own little games. On the morning of October 29, for example, we were taking the boys to Maspeth when Henry, who was seated in the back seat, started saying a nonsense word ("hi-pol"). When we arrived at his grandparents' and his grandfather came to get him out of the car, Henry did not want to get out because he wanted to prolong the game. He repeated the word and said to his grandfather, who was reaching for Henry in the back seat (Henry likes his grandfather to come get him), "I'm playing hi-pol." Henry likes to play in the garage with his grandfather, who often takes him there in the morning.

Henry has been relapsing in his toilet training. He has not been informing us when he has to urinate or defecate, and he has been frequently making messes in his diapers.

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Henry still greatly enjoys looking through his books. He will often request to see a certain book, and will either want you to get it for him or request to see it himself. If he sees something on television that reminds him of something in one of his books, he will run excitedly to get the book. For example, we were watching a movie yesterday morning in which there was a scene of Indians rowing in a canoe. I told Henry the words "canoe" and "oars." It turned out that he knew the word "oars"; he began shouting "octopus" to me. He made this connection because he has an alphabet book with a picture of an octopus rowing a boat. The octopus has an oar in each tentacle. I got the book for Henry, and he was very excited to show me the picture of the octopus.

When Henry sees an illustration (or a scene depicted on TV) now, he is more capable of describing the entire scene (rather than just pointing out some aspect of it). This is what he said on November 4 about a page in his "Dumbo" book, for example:

He can't go up. Gorilla's gotta push him. . . . Look at that man. His hat fall off.

Notice the descriptive ability and the linking of different images into a coherent statement.

Another thing I have noticed is that although Henry is frequently inclined to act up and to try to get your attention when we are paying attention to Stephen or are engaged in an adult pursuit (such as reading, studying, or watching an adult show on television) that does not involve him, he's surprisingly attentive at times to things that you would not necessarily expect to interest a child. An example would be "The Mission," a film that Janet and I were watching yesterday. We were absorbed in the movie, and Henry to an extent got interested in it too. (He particularly liked the scenes with Indians. He pointed out that one of the Indians "has a

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feather" and tried at other points in the movie to describe in his own words what was going on.) If we are showing a genuine interest in something, Henry seems to be capable of recognizing this and to some extent (albeit on a different level) sharing our interest.

Another thing Henry had developed the ability to do is to take something that he has overheard an adult say and make a sensible statement of his own that relates to and follows from what he has heard. For example, Janet was telling me on the morning of October 30 how Henry wanted her to stay up and play with him the night before. All of a sudden, Henry interjected with the statement, "I tell Mommy she's not going to sleep."

Henry has also recently developed the ability to play games of the imagination (i.e., with no tangible objects involved) with me. For example, one of his books has illustrations depicting monkeys eating apples and plums that they pluck from trees. Henry and I played a game recently in which I pretended to pull the applies off the tree "out of the book" and to "eat" them. (I would smack my lips and say, "mm, good," pretending that the fruit was in my hand.) Henry enjoyed the game and joined in it with me.

Henry's excellent memory continues to impress me. I asked him on October 29, "Where did we see the horsie? On the --" (referring to the horse on the roof of a beer distributor in Brooklyn we have driven past several times and once or twice got out of the car to look at). Henry answered, "roof." He remembers memorable past incidents in great detail (though his recall, no doubt, is often assisted by my recalling the incident with him by asking him questions such as these).

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Tuesday, November 10

When I got up this morning, there were several pieces of yellow lined paper, scotch taped to the refrigerator door, on which Henry had done a lot of scribbling with a pencil and crayons. They looked like primitive efforts to draw. Henry was very proud of himself and he insisted on taking two crayons (one in each hand) with him when he walked to the car with me this morning.

Monday, November 23

Yesterday, a cold Sunday afternoon with temperatures of around 30 degrees, I took Henry out with me. Henry's hands were cold, so I took him to a couple of stores to buy some gloves or mittens, but didn't find any. At a shopping center in Jackson Heights, we encountered several firemen who were leaving one of the stores, and we saw several fire trucks in the parking lot. One of the firemen, who was wearing all his gear (fire hat, rubber jacket, pants, and boots), spoke to Henry, to whom I was excitedly pointing out the firemen. He said to Henry something like, "You want to be a fireman when you grow up? You'll have lots of fun." This made an impression on Henry. Later in the day, he was able to recall not only his visit with the fireman but also what the fireman had said to him ("you want to be a fireman?").

I also took Henry out with me on Friday night (November 20). It was cold and dark, but he enjoyed playing for a while in the playground in our apartment complex. (He would have stayed longer if I had let him.) He was full of energy.

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After the playground, we went shopping in the same shopping center where we saw the firemen. We went to a drugstore to get some diapers, and Henry, who entered the drugstore in high spirits, shouting and running up and down the aisles to point out merchandise such as a "vacuum cleaner" (which he apparently saw depicted on a box, although it may have been a hair dryer, since he also seems to call a hair dryer a vacuum cleaner), made an impression on the salesgirls. Suddenly, I realized that Henry had become very quiet and that I did not know where he was. I found him several aisles away engrossed in a "conversation" with two salesgirls, who found him very entertaining.

After the drugstore, I decided to take Henry with me to get some pizza. Henry really enjoyed sitting in the restaurant and sharing a slice of pizza (which he crams his mouth full of) and a coke (which he sips from a straw) with me. After we had been sitting there for a few minutes, a pretty seven-year-old blond-haired girl and her parents, who appeared to be of Scandinavian descent, sat down in the booth behind us. Henry kept up an amusing conversation with the girl for ten or fifteen minutes. He later proudly told me on several occasions that he had pizza and that he "talked to the boy." He seems to insist on calling little girls boys. Yesterday, he proudly told his Aunt Carol on the phone that he had pizza and that "I spilled my coke." He spilled a little of his Coke when we were leaving the restaurant (and he got upset because I wouldn't let him drink from the paper cup afterward); apparently, this made an impression on him.

Henry can be very difficult to manage while shopping. He likes to take objects off shelves and sometimes knocks them down. He likes to run off by himself in the supermarket and gets angry if you try to restrain or carry him. (Janet's solution is to put Henry in the shopping cart and wheel him around.) Henry loves to push the shopping cart by himself (which he was doing on Friday night) and becomes indignant if you try to help him steer it.

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We had a very enjoyable time at the playground at 85th Street and 30th Avenue in Jackson Heights on Sunday. Henry's hands and feet became cold, but he didn't want to leave. I had to carry him away kicking and screaming. (Janet often takes the boys to the playground on weekday afternoons and has had the same experience with Henry when it is time to leave.) Henry enjoyed seeing a dog in the playground and playing with some other children there. He will approach and talk to other children now, although mean or older children often scare him.

When we got home Friday night after the pizza, Henry, who wants to prolong evenings when he is having a good time, insisted that we stay up and that I play for him a tape of the Walt Disney film "Dumbo." Henry has seen the film many times over and over again in the past few weeks. He also likes the Walt Disney version of Dickens's "The Christmas Carol" (with the cartoon character Uncle Scrooge as Scrooge and Mickey Mouse as Bob Cratchit), which is on the same tape. There are certain scary portions of "Dumbo" and of "The Christmas Carol" (such as when Scrooge sees Marley's ghost on the knocker of his door or when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come points out Scrooge's grave) that Henry always insists we fast forward through because they frighten him.

Henry is very moody lately. He is often a delight to be with, but he can become irritated very easily. For example, he often is very cranky when he gets up in the morning -- he doesn't want to be bothered and fusses while being dressed, etc. But once you get him going he can be very charming; he often chats merrily when being walked to the car. Some of Henry's irritability may be due to jealousy of Stephen.

Henry has been "relapsing" in his toilet training lately. If you ask if he wants to make a "pee-pee" or "doo-doo," he almost always tells you "no" in a huffy fashion, and he sometimes urinates or defecates in his diapers or

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underpants, whereas several months ago he was telling us whenever he had to make a "pee-pee" or "doo-doo" and was proudly using his trainer potty, which he has rarely used in the past few weeks. Yesterday, Henry made a "doo-doo" on the living room rug.

I have been telling Henry, who seems enthused about the prospect, that Santa Claus is going to be bringing him some presents for Christmas. I also asked Henry if he would like to see Santa Claus (i.e., visit him in a store), and he said he would like to.

Stephen has been adorable lately. With his soft, plump cheeks and his rosy, healthy-looking skin, he seems to be in the full flower of babyhood. He is a delight to hold. He is very responsive, more so than ever. He seems much more aware of his parents and seems to be able to tell us apart. He always seems to recognize me and welcomes me with an endearing smile. When I hold him up in the air and jiggle him up and down, he lets out a sound of pleasure that is somewhere between a gurgle and a laugh. He also likes it when I sit him high up on a propped-up knee and then suddenly let him down.

Stephen appears to be experiencing discomfort from teething. He drools a lot and if you run your finger along his gums, you can feel that they are very hard and sort of pointed; it is as if a row of teeth were already there. Stephen will sometimes grab my hand or an object and stick it in his mouth, and he occasionally sucks on his own hand or a finger.

For about two weeks or so now, Stephen has been using a playpen in the dining room-living room area of our apartment. He seems to like it there, probably because he has a good unobstructed view of his surroundings. Stephen can roll over from his stomach to his back now. Sometimes when he is lying on his stomach, he appears as if he's trying to crawl (he sometimes gets frustrated). Stephen likes it if you place a rattle in

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his hand while he is lying in the playpen, and sometimes he will shake the rattle vigorously. Occasionally he will drop the rattle and get upset because he can't find it or pick it up again.

Stephen's diet consists of baby formula, baby oatmeal, mashed bananas, and occasionally baby apple juice. Henry also still drinks a bottle, although he frequently refuses milk (but he likes to drink soda out of a bottle). After being fed, Stephen frequently burps up some of his milk. He has not been breastfeeding at all for quite a while.

Stephen likes to be able to hold his head up now, but you usually have to prop him up to maintain him in a sitting position.

When Stephen is happy or excited now, he "shouts out" loudly. This sound -- it's neither a squeal nor a shout -- is a rather new one for him. Up to a few weeks ago, he used to make only gurgling, murmuring, and crying sounds. It seems to me that Stephen has been crying less lately.

Henry has been writing in books lately. He likes to take a pencil or crayon and do his own scribbling over the pictures in his books. Several days ago, he scribbled over several of the pages of one of my textbooks with a crayon.

On November 11, I was looking through a children's word book with Henry that has pictures of objects to identify. Without any prompting, Henry made the following connections between the objects depicted and their "function," as he interpreted it:

saw for Grandpa

ball for the boy

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leaf for the tree

umbrella for the rain

hat for the man

scissors for Baba [Grandma]

paintbrush for Mommy*

toothbrush for Henry

ruler for Dada

fork for food, for the pancakes

On November 17, Henry made a similar connection between an object and its function. We were looking at a picture of tools in a book. He identified them and then said something to the effect that Grandpa needs tools in the garage.

On November 11, Henry and I were looking at pictures of animals in a book and he started "feeding" the animals by holding up food that we were eating (such as chicken and kielbasy) and offering it to the animals.

When I came home on November 16, Henry said to me, "You had to go to library, Dada." I asked him in reply, "Did you go to Baba's?" Henry

* *Janet has recently done some painting in the apartment.

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answered, "I did go to Baba's.* I played the cars." Then he said, "That's a lamb. I'm eating it." (He was eating an animal cracker.)

On November 17, I said to Henry, "You're going to go to school, just like Dada." Henry replied, "I go bye-bye and I go come home [sic]."

The next morning, as were exiting the garage in Janet's car, Henry said to me, "make the car go boom in that garage." He remembered that I had banged the car into one of the beams in the garage a week or two previously.

On November 12, after Janet had finished work and picked up the boys, she met me at Smuggler's, a bar and restaurant adjacent to her school in Long Island City. Henry and I went into the bar together, because Henry had [to use] the toilet. I decided to get Henry some french fries, and he insisted over and over again that I should sit down at one of the tables with him. (He loves to be in a restaurant and to sit at a table with us.)

While I was at the take-out counter paying for the french fries, Henry sat down at a table in the dining area all by himself. He looked very cute sitting there, and he didn't want to leave.

Here is a sampling of Henry's conversation after we had returned to the car:

Too hot [said of french fries]. . . . when it cools down [i.e., he planned to eat the french fries once they cooled down] . . . remember I was with the french fries in the restaurant? . . . remember I was sitting

* *Henry often inserts "did" in an affirmative reply.

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down? . . . give me more french fries . . . Henry was with Aunt Carol . . . you was with Aunt Carol, Dada, you.**

We decided to stop for coffee at another restaurant. Janet said to me, "don't bring your coke into the restaurant." (I had bought a Coke for Henry at Smuggler's.) Henry said, "bring the french fries in the restaurant."

When we were inside the restaurant, Henry said, "I want to go on the horsie in this restaurant. [He was referring to the merry-go-round he had ridden on in a Burger King several weeks ago.] I want to go around and around."

Henry was interested in some paintings I pointed out to him on the walls of the restaurant. One showed a cloudy horizon. When I asked him what the painting was, he said "clouds in the water."

While we were at Smuggler's, one of the chairs at the table Henry had been sitting at, which had been leaning against the table because its legs were not flush on the floor, toppled over. While we were in the second restaurant, Henry said to me:

Remember the chair fell down in the restaurant, Dada? . . . I cry. . . . You pick it up.

At that point, a young woman who was admiring Stephen asked me if she could hold him. "See, the people got Stephen," Henry said when the lady was holding Stephen.

After we left the restaurant, Henry said:

* **Henry often uses this "you . . . you" construction -- i.e., he addresses you as "you" and then concludes the sentence with "you" for emphasis.

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I don't like the kids in the park. I don't like the other kids on the slide. I'm scared.

When I told him "I'm going to school," Henry replied, "Go to school with you, Dada." When I took some money out of my wallet to give to Janet, Henry said, "Give money to Mommy." Henry also picked up a magic marker and was making an imaginary "H" with it ("H" is Henry's generic word for any letter) in the air while sitting in the back seat of the car.

Whenever I ask Henry "want me to tell you?" (when he doesn't know the answer to a question), he replies "tell you" (instead of "tell me") or sometimes, "want to tell you." He will also say "I don't know" when he is incapable of answering or doesn't want to answer a question.

According to Janet, when Henry was watching "Dumbo" on November 13, he told her that "Henry got a baby" (i.e., Stephen). He made the statement during the portion of the film (it is one of Henry's favorite parts) when the stork is bringing animal babies to their mothers.

Here is a fragment of Henry's conversation with me on the morning of November 19:

HENRY: I just get up. You was going to the library. I bring the wheel, I came back.* You was talking about the trolley car. [I believe I had told Henry a story about a trolley car the night before.] Hello, Mr. Lion [said to one of his stuffed animals]. Hold him. Lion is crying. Play

* *This was a reference to the night before, when Henry was playing a game of taking small wheel-like rubber objects out of a drawer in the kitchen and running into the living room to hand them to me. Each time he returned to the living room, either I would say "you came back" or he would say "I came back."

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with his tow truck. Play with the pickup truck. [Henry likes me or Janet to play with him.] . . .

ME: He was having a dream.

HENRY: The light fall down [a reference to a dream he had about six months ago]. . . . There's baby Stephen. Let's look at him. I'm going to show Baby Stephen the toys. School bus, Baby Stephen [shows Stephen his toy school bus].

On November 15, Henry asked Carol on the telephone, "What happened to the backyard?" I believe that what he meant was that he hadn't visited Carol's backyard, which he loves to play in, for a while and missed it. He also showed excellent recall of the details of visits to Carol's house, including the fact that he eaten on a table in the back yard and the names of both Carol and David's cats.

I think that Henry will be fully adept (for a child) at conversation by the time he is three and perhaps within six months.

Wednesday, November 25

This morning at about 6:30, Janet told me to get Henry dressed. Henry was still half asleep, and he got very upset when I tried to wake him up and dress him. He was crying bitterly.

Every time I tried to go near Henry and started to change his clothing, he would sob, "I want Mommy." But when Janet tried to dress him,

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he sobbed, "I want Dada." This continued for several exchanges between Janet and me as we took turns trying to get Henry dressed.

When I picked Henry and Janet up in the front of our building (Stephen was in the baby seat of the car with me), Henry was standing on the street corner smiling.

Saturday, November 28

On Thanksgiving (November 26), we took Henry and Stephen with us by car to their Uncle Ralph's and Aunt Barbara's house in Hamilton Square, New Jersey. It was a long day for all of us as our car broke down on the way and we experienced very heavy traffic.

We were forced to stop at a gas station in Brooklyn, where we got a broken hose on the car fixed. Having Henry with us alleviated some of the tedium of getting stuck with a broken-down car, although it was momentarily annoying to me when Henry, after running halfway across the gas station lot in the direction of the street, stepped on a puddle of oil and got oil all over the bottom and sides of his shoes. (Janet was somehow able to clean the oil off.) During the rest of the day (and the following day as well), Henry talked from time to time about how the "old car" (i.e., Janet's Pontiac) was "broken," how he saw the gas station and the "wheels" (i.e., tires) inside it, and about the tow truck (with a hook on it) that he saw there. Henry seemed to be impressed with the many tires that were hanging from the walls of the gas station, which was mainly devoted to the tire repair and selling business.

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Prior to leaving in the morning, Henry was in fine form. He was running around the apartment with a bottle of talcum powder, which he was shaking over practically every object and piece of furniture that he encountered; meanwhile, he was saying with delight, "I'm making everything smell." Later, he took the powder and appeared to be pouring it into his tricycle, saying "I put gas in the bicycle." He also made a statement to me (presumably the subject of money had been brought up, although I forget how) to the effect that when you need money, go to the store.

I think it was a long day for Stephen, who was up for a good part of the morning and did not sleep all that much in the car. After we got stuck in a traffic jam at the entrance to the Holland Tunnel, Stephen seemed to get very restless in his car seat. When we got him to the New Jersey side, we stretched him out on a blanket in the back seat and he fell asleep almost immediately.

Stephen and Henry were a big hit with the guests at Ralph and Barbara's (the company included Barbara's parents and one of her aunts). Henry loves to be the center of attention on such occasions. One cute thing he will do is to do something amusing to get everyone's attention, then say "what I do?" to call attention to what he's just done. As usual, Henry buried his head on Janet's and my shoulders and acted very shy for the first 15 minutes or so of our visit. Then, as seems always to be the case, he warmed up to the company and became "the life of the party."

Henry was too excited to eat much Thanksgiving dinner or to sit still at the table. He wandered off at one point and went out the front door by himself into the darkness (it was about five or six in the evening). We didn't realize he was gone right away. Eventually, his Uncle Ralph went outside and "rescued" him in the front yard. Several minutes later, I heard a tap on the window and saw a smiling Henry and Ralph peering through a large window into the dining room. Ralph said that when he was outdoors with

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Henry, with whom he took a walk, Henry was following him around repeating practically every word he said.

I think Henry enjoyed seeing his Uncle Ralph, whose first name he pronounces like "ROLF." He kept gravitating towards Ralph, and then he would become fearful when Ralph playfully attempted to scare or grab him. Several times Ralph grabbed Henry, whereupon Henry would say "Dada" and plead with me to "rescue" him.

Henry was continually making trips to the kitchen to find Ralph or Barbara. He was continually asking Ralph, who gave him some ginger snaps, to give him more cookies. Ralph would hand Henry a cookie, and a minute later Henry would say "another one."

I especially enjoyed being with Henry because he was very loving towards me all day. He was relaxed, he was having a good time, and his defenses were down. He was a pleasure to be with.

Henry did have a temper tantrum when we got home and carried him into the house from the car. He had been sleeping on the way home and was overtired, and he kept shouting "I want Mommy" while I was carrying him to our building (Janet was getting Stephen out of the car and putting him in the carriage). By the time we had walked from the garage to our apartment, Henry had shouted himself hoarse. He calmed down a little when he was laid on top of his bed and said with a weak voice, "I want to see the present" (i.e., his "Dumbo" and "Mickey Mouse's Christmas Carol" tape). We didn't show Henry the film (on Janet's counsel) for fear of overstimulating him (it was past midnight), but I did look at some books for a minute or two with Henry. When he went to bed, I said good night to him and he replied, "good night." It was the first time he's ever said "good night" to me.

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The next morning (November 27), Janet's parents came to help tear up a rug in our apartment. Henry was playing with his grandfather's hammer, screwdriver, and other gadgets, and everyone told him that he was "a big help" to his grandfather. At one point, Henry said to his grandmother, "Where's your house, Baba?" which I found to be a clever and endearing way of Henry's taking note of the fact that he almost always sees his grandparents in the context of their house, not his.

On Thanksgiving morning, we stopped for breakfast on our way to Ralph and Barbara's at a coffee shop in the Astoria section of Queens. Henry has a very good memory, including an ability to associate a locale with past experiences. When we were driving around Astoria looking for a restaurant we had been to several times before, Henry, who must have recognized the street (Broadway), said that he wanted to go to the "vacuum cleaner restaurant." That is precisely what he called the same restaurant before (it was in fact closed, so that we ended up eating at another restaurant in the neighborhood); he remembered the restaurant and the neighborhood it was located in. (He calls it "vacuum cleaner restaurant" because it's located next door to a vacuum cleaner store.)

Also, when [we] were seated in the coffee shop waiting to be served, Henry said, "Where's the muffin?" I found this interesting because when we had visited the coffee shop in Astoria before (several months ago), we had ordered a corn muffin for Henry. He apparently remembered the corn muffin and associated it with the particular restaurant we had visited at that time, which is located about three blocks away and [is] almost identical to the restaurant we visited this time.

While we were driving along the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, close to an industrial area in Brooklyn where we had seen a statue of a horse on the roof of a beer distributor's warehouse, Henry, who was sitting in the back seat of the car, suddenly blurted out that he wanted to see the

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"horsie." (He also mentioned again, while we were driving to Astoria, that he wants to go "round and round" on the mechanical "horsie" in the merry-go-round that he rode on [in] a Burger King restaurant in Jackson Heights.)

Henry likes to have his picture taken. He is very photogenic and will "ham it up" in front of the camera. He usually smiles engagingly for the camera, but he will sometimes play a game of ducking his head away suddenly in order to play a trick on you. On Thanksgiving, he was occasionally smiling but closing his eyes when he struck his pose while seated in an armchair, which was amusing to everyone.

Stephen is getting more and more assertive. He has a surprisingly strong grip and will make noises when he wants attention. He can roll over on his stomach and hold his head up in that position now; he looks like he's on the verge of crawling. He seems to like being in the crib for the most part.

Sunday, November 29

Last night Janet and I went out to eat with Henry and Stephen at an Italian restaurant in Astoria, Queens.

Henry was quite well behaved. He sat at the table and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He had some tomatoes from my salad, several gulps of my beer, some Coca-Cola (which he called "Pepsi"), a little garlic bread, and some spaghetti with tomato sauce. He was hungry and ate quite heartily. He ate the spaghetti mostly by himself -- i.e., he was holding the fork -- although I helped him occasionally. (Some of the spaghetti ended up on the floor.)

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Henry likes to drink beer and wine. If he sees you drinking it, he will insistently repeat the word "beer" or "wine" until you give him some. He guzzled a fair amount (for a child) of my bottle of beer last night and seemed to enjoy it.

Stephen was sitting on Janet's lap across the table from Henry and me. He looked very happy to be included in the group (as always), and he seemed to enjoy being there and being able to see what was going on. If you are holding Stephen and if he is being held in a position where he is not cut off [from] (i.e., can see) his surroundings, he's usually very content. (He doesn't like to be put down or left by himself.)

Henry kept up a delightful stream of chatter, mostly with me, all night. I was struck by how much he verbalizes his feelings, how rich his vocabulary is, and how capable he is of using words to convey his thoughts, memories, and feelings. You can "see," through his words, his mind wandering by association from one thing to another. He makes interesting connections. For example, earlier in the day, I said something to Henry about something being funny. He started talking about "falling down," and I eventually realized that he was talking about a funny cartoon we both saw on television about six months ago (a cartoon in which cartoon character men standing in a row were falling down one by one) and that this cartoon represents the archetype of funniness to Henry.

Henry is very aware of and receptive to what others say to him in conversation. The owner of the Italian restaurant, for example, talked nicely to Henry. I believe Henry, whom I was holding in my arms, enabling him to see the man, who was standing behind a tall counter, said something to the man like "it's raining outside," and the man replied "it's not raining." (It actually was raining when we arrived at the restaurant.) Henry later told me that the "nice man" (a term I had first used) had talked to him, and he told

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me that the man said to him, "it's not raining." Henry is impressed when people talk to him, and he remembers what they say.

When we were paying our bill, Henry asked the owner, who was punching keys on a modern electronic cash register, what he was doing with his "typewriter." The cash register reminded Henry of a typewriter.

We stopped at a video tape store on the way home and Henry went into the store with me while Janet waited with Stephen in the car. Henry was rambunctiously running around the store as always. At one point, Henry ran out of the store onto the sidewalk on Northern Boulevard in the dark (it is a dangerous thoroughfare with heavy traffic). I didn't realize where he was, and when I did realize, he had disappeared. I found him looking very upset with his face pressed against the other side of the glass door. Several minutes later, he ran out on the street again without my knowledge.

When we were about to leave the store, Henry at one point came running up to me and asked me to pick him up. He had been playing with some other children and I thought he was afraid of them. I said something to Henry like, "You're afraid of the kids." He said something in reply like, "I'm not afraid of the kids. I like the kids. I say 'hi' to the kids."

If you say a new word once or twice to Henry, he's not likely to forget it. While driving to the restaurant, I said some new word (which I have forgotten) to Henry (who was seated in the back seat) last night, one that I'm quite sure he had not heard before. About ten minutes later, he used the word in conversation. He seems to have a very broad vocabulary for a child his age. He knows the exact word for many things, and he always seems eager to learn new words. Often, he will look through books, point to objects, and ask me, "What's that?"

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Henry went to bed without much fuss at about eleven last night. He wanted me to tell him a story. His favorite lately seems to be a story about Goldilocks in which the Three Bears do not play a prominent role. He somehow got the Big Bad Wolf mixed up with the story, so that either he or I introduce the wolf into the story. Henry insisted on having some Pepsi Cola (rather than milk) in his bottle last night.

At one point while he was lying in bed, Henry was reminded of a trip that we made with Aunt Carol and Uncle David to the Museum of Natural History about six months ago. I was very impressed because Henry recalled not only that he had seen an elephant and Indians there, but also that he had gone there with Carol and David. (I was very surprised he was able to remember this.) Henry pointed out that the elephants had a big nose, that they had tusks, and that they had an "ax."* I pointed out the tusks on the elephants at the museum to Henry when we were there, but I have only rarely used the word "tusks" with him since that time. I made several observations about the Indians we saw at the Museum of Natural History but left one out and Henry corrected me by saying that the Indians had "feathers."

Henry said "I love you" twice to me last night before falling asleep. (I said "I love you" to him first.)

Henry was also writing with a pencil in his book about Dumbo the Elephant. He uses the word "fix" to describe what he's doing -- e.g., "fix Dumbo" means that he will scribble over and around the picture of Dumbo.

* *I don't know what the word "ax" means, but Henry has often pointed to a picture of elephants in his book "Babar the Elephant" and has used the word "ax" in connection with the picture. He obviously identifies some aspect of elephants with the word "ax."

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Looking at a humorous picture of a hippopotamus (or some such animal) being pulled up a ladder by other animals, Henry said something like, "Hippopotamus can't go up. They have to push him." I was struck by his rudimentary notions of cause and effect and by his ability to put two sentences together in a logical sequence.

When I came home at about six last night, Henry was sitting at a desk in my bedroom playing with some plastic blocks his Aunt Barbara gave him. He finally figured out (all by himself) how to link the blocks together, and was linking then on top of one another to build high structures. Sometimes when he is having a good time, he will say, "Play with me, Dada" or "Come on. Play with me."

This morning, Henry found to his surprise that he was able to get into Stephen's playpen by himself by toppling over the side. He devised a game of tumbling into the playpen (Stephen was not inside) and then calling me to lift him out of the playpen.

Last night, Henry fell down in the back seat of the car and landed on his rear end. I made a joke out of it by telling Henry that he "went boom" and "fell down on his heinie." Henry found that hilarious and laughed heartily. I was struck by his good spirits.

Henry's cheeks are still plump and his hair is blond and curly in the back. He is an adorable child at a very cute age.

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Tuesday, December 1

I awoke at about 5:30 this morning, the same time Henry did. Henry got up and made a beeline into the living room, where he was very eager to play with some plastic blocks given to him as a birthday present last July by his Aunt Barbara. The blocks fit together and interlock in such a way that you can build tall structures with them. Henry had been playing with the blocks the night before, and he often gets up in the morning determined to continue what he left off doing when he went (or was sent) to bed the night before.

When I went into the living room, Henry had a very tall vertical structure of blocks in front of him. He either had placed, or was about to place, another tall structure of blocks on top of the first one. I was impressed with his "construction" ability and by the fact that the structure hadn't toppled over.

Henry said "play with me" to me. He also asked me, several minutes later, to get two of his books. First he requested "The Little Red Caboose," which he identified by its title (or a truncated version of the title) and then I believe he said he wanted the "I can't do it" book, which I believe was a reference to "The Little Engine That Could." (I have often used the words "I can't do it," referring to the train's inability to go over the mountain, when reciting the story to Henry.)

I couldn't get very involved with Henry, because I had to get dressed. (Janet wanted to leave for school early, and I was going with her and the boys on my way to the library.) We had to interrupt Henry to get him dressed, and Henry had a temper tantrum, which is becoming a regular event in the morning when you try to get him dressed. I carried him to the car without his shoes on; he calmed down considerably on the way to the car.

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Henry got sleepy on the way to his grandparents', although he didn't fall asleep. When he got to his grandparents' and his grandfather came to take him out of the back seat, he clung to Janet for an instant and said something to the effect that he wanted to stay with her, which is unusual for Henry. He usually seems eager to see his grandparents and scarcely seems to be aware that Janet (or Janet and I) are leaving him there. I wonder (not just because of this one incident) if Henry is entering a phase of greater attachment (manifested by separation anxiety) to his parents.

I made a point of coming home tonight because I wanted to see both boys and because I felt that Henry felt cheated by not being able to spend time with me (and to get my undivided attention) in the morning. In other words, I surmised that he was upset in part because of his lack of fulfillment in interacting with me. (I had not seen him the night before.)

When I got home at about 8 P.M., Henry was delighted to see me, and Stephen gave me a big, delightful smile. Henry, as is customary when I first get home, commanded my attention by playing with toys, including his blocks, for my benefit. He showed me a small plastic Dumbo the Elephant that Janet had bought him in a toy store (during a visit to her gynecologist's in Bronxville, New York) that afternoon. (He said "see the big nose," among other things.) He also showed me some pictures in "The Little Red Caboose." (He likes to identify objects in the pictures for my benefit.)

While we were looking at drawings of trucks on the back of a toy box (the one that Henry's fire engine came in), Henry said to me something like "dump truck, rocks slide out" (I forget the exact words, but the concept [is] accurate), "water comes out of hose" (said in reference to a drawing of a fire truck), and "hook on the tow truck." I was impressed, as I had been a week or so earlier, with his ability to connect an object to its exact function.

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Somehow, the word "duck" or the concept of a duck came up, so I got out the book "Make Way for Ducklings" (one of my childhood favorites), a christening gift to Henry from his Aunt Carol, to show to Henry. Henry was excited and interested to see the book, which I don't think he's acquainted with. (I may have showed it to him when he was younger, but I have not done so recently.) He greatly enjoyed the pictures, and was able to identify pictures of policemen in the book, even though they are wearing outdated uniforms in the drawings. (Perhaps someone already went through the book with Henry. If they had pointed out and identified the policemen to him, he would not be likely to forget it.)

One thing that impressed me was that I told Henry that I had liked the book when I was a little boy and that the illustrations depicted Boston. I am quite certain I mentioned the word "Boston" just once. About five minutes later, as I was making some comment to Henry about one of the illustrations, he said "Boston" to me.

Henry also did some scribbling with a ball point pen on one of my yellow pads, and we briefly played with a ball on the floor. When he tries to throw the ball to me, Henry often ends up throwing it backwards over his shoulder. He is very cute when he does this; he gets so excited when he throws the ball.

As is usual when I come home in the evening, Henry was excited, and it was difficult to get him to bed, especially since Stephen, who was restless and hard to calm down, was also awake and was getting attention from me. (Janet, who rarely goes to sleep before the kids do, was already in bed.)

At one point, I was holding Stephen on my lap while seated at the dining room table in the vestibule of our apartment. Stephen kept reaching out to grab objects in front of him, a yellow pad and a wet disposable

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diaper that I had just discarded after having changed Stephen. It was half annoying and equally amusing the way Stephen kept reaching for the objects. I realized that reaching for everything he can get his hands on is a new phase with Stephen, and I was impressed [by] how tenaciously he grabs objects. For example, he grabbed one piece of paper on the top of the yellow pad and crumpled it up before I could get it away from him. He pulled the yellow pad off the table once or twice, whereupon it fell on the floor. All of this was very amusing to Henry. He made a point of remarking with amusement a few minutes later in his bedroom that Stephen had knocked over the paper or the diaper (I forget which one Henry actually mentioned).

I ate some chicken before Henry went to sleep, and Henry said something about wanting to eat. In reply I said something to Henry to the effect that he wasn't likely to be really hungry and that he had already had dinner at his grandmother's (whom he still calls Baba). This snippet of conversation from Henry was both amusing and interesting to me:

I spit [out] the golabki [Polish stuffed cabbage], and Baba was mad at me. I said, "Baba, that golabki don't spit out."

Note Henry's ability to describe an interaction that I would [not] otherwise have been aware of.

Henry and I also had a conversation in his bedroom where I mentioned the ""nice man" he saw in the Italian restaurant on Saturday night (November 28). I said something to Henry like, "Remember the nice man? . . . He said to you, 'It's not raining.'" In the same tone of voice as mine,* Henry said, "he gave me cheese." I had forgotten, but Henry had

* *Henry will often pick up on the tone of voice in which a statement is made to him, especially the last few words, and will accurately reproduce that

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not, that the man had given Henry a piece of Italian cheese as a friendly gesture.

Eventually, I called Janet into the boys' bedroom to attend to Stephen, whom I could not calm down enough for him to go to sleep. (I tried holding him, lying him down and comforting him from time to time, and giving him a bottle of apple juice, which he didn't want.) When Henry saw Janet fussing over Stephen, he started to act up and was carrying on on the floor, saying repeatedly (as he often does at bedtime or in the morning when he's jealous of Stephen), "I want you, Mommy."

Henry eventually settled down and fell asleep next to Janet in our bed. I carried him (as I have done for three nights in a row) into his own bed, and (as was the case the two previous times), he hardly stirred when I carried him to his bed.

Before he fell asleep, Henry came out to the living room once or twice to sort of "make amends" and see what I was up to. I felt that it was important for him to establish that both parents were on hand and supportive of him. Henry saw me engrossed in an article I was reading, and he asked me what I was doing. He realized that I was doing something intently and wanted to know what it was. I told him I was reading an article, and he said something about a "diary"; when he sees me engrossed in writing, I'm usually working on his diary.

Henry gave me a very sweet kiss tonight. He has been very loving to me for the past few days (he told me "don't cry" once or twice), and I think he was really glad to see me. He will sometimes say (as he did once, I

intonation in his own response. He seems to have a good "ear" for language.

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believe, tonight) "you came home, Dada" in recognition of my having done so.

I think that Stephen's teething is bothering him. He is not such a passive, inert baby any more. He actively reaches out to make contact with you and "shouts" to get our attention.

Wednesday, December 2

Henry wet his pants before going to bed last night. I think he is doing this (i.e., not using the toilet or informing us when he has to urinate) as a way of competing for our attention with Stephen. He wants us to change and take care of him just like Stephen.

Last night, when Henry and Stephen were vying for my attention, Henry lay down on the floor on a couple of occasions and pretended to be a baby ("baby bunting") in distress. At one point, he climbed into Stephen's crib and lay on his back briefly [while] trying to imitate Stephen's cry.

Henry does not show much overt hostility to Stephen, although he does resent it when Stephen touches one of his toys or some other object. For example, Henry admonished Stephen by firmly saying "don't touch, Stephen" when Stephen was grabbing a yellow pad last night that I had made some notes on and Henry had scribbled over. (Henry had a proprietary feeling about the pad.)

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Friday, December 4

When I went into Stephen and Henry's room this morning, Stephen was lying fairly peacefully on his back in his crib. Janet had already put his bright-blue snowsuit on, although she had not zipped it up yet. Stephen did not smile at me like he usually does.

Stephen's face looks slightly plumper, more puffy, than usual in the last day or two.

Henry was in a very good mood this morning; perhaps this was the result of his having gone to bed early last night. He was very cheerful and loving. (He bestowed on me the honor of giving me a "kiss," which means that he extended his cheek when I asked him for a kiss.) Henry was carrying three little figurines representing "Sesame Street" characters, which Janet bought a couple of days ago, to the car with him. He said he was going to show them to "Baba" [Grandma].

Last night at about ten or so, I heard a thud while sitting in the living room. I went into the boys' bedroom to discover that Henry had fallen out of bed. He cried out once or twice, but he didn't really wake up. [He went back to sleep after] I had put him back in his bed. He opened his eyes briefly, but he was soon sleeping soundly.

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Sunday, December 6

Within the past few days, I have noticed that Stephen is looking and acting differently. His face looks a little fuller and more mature. I'm not sure what this is a result of. It may be that his face is less round. At any rate, his face -- and especially his expression -- bear a striking resemblance to Henry's at the same age.

Stephen's hair has begun to grow in on the forehead and sides of his head; this also makes him look older and more handsome than ever.

Stephen suddenly wants to grab everything within his sight. He often gropes very clumsily for objects he wants to get his hands on. It is amusing to see Stephen take a pacifier and put it into his mouth. He often grips it backwards and puts it into his mouth backwards, so that he ends up biting on the protruding edge of the pacifier rather than the nipple part, and he often drops his pacifier in his bed or playpen and can't find it again (sometimes he rolls on top of it).

Stephen can roll over from his back to his stomach with ease now. When he is on his stomach, he will assume a crawling position; he often appears to be trying to crawl. When he is doing this, he makes sounds that suggest both the considerable exertion involved in his trying to push himself forward on his stomach and the frustration he is experiencing. When he is on his stomach, Stephen now holds his head up (so that he is looking straight ahead) as a matter of course. I often come over and turn Stephen on his back (it reminds me of doing the reverse with an insect on its back that is stuck) because he seems to be experiencing so much frustration trying to crawl and doesn't seem to know how to get back into a more comfortable position.

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I was holding Stephen on my lap today and observed that he seemed to be holding his head up without difficulty. I also observed him stretched out on the floor and was struck by how large (and tall) he seems to be for his age. He appears to be a very healthy baby. (His diet still consists of formula, mashed bananas, baby apple juice, and cereal.)

Stephen is making more of [a] variety of sounds than ever. One gets the feeling that he wants more and more to be played with by and to interact with his parents and other people.

Henry was very lovable all weekend. He has been less abrasive, less irritable, and more loving over the past few days. He has moments of showing kindness to Stephen and the rest of the time seems to tolerate Stephen with a sort of "benign neglect." He resents it when Stephen touches something he is looking at or playing with.

Henry continues to impress me with his verbal abilities, which at times seem to make him the equivalent of a little tape recorder. Earlier today, I was having a conversation with Janet, during which I was speaking fairly rapidly and intently. Suddenly, Henry was repeating fragments of the conversation more or less verbatim. It was a strange sensation to hear some of my words being spoken back to me.

Henry's ability to verbalize thoughts, impressions, feelings, and memories, to make associations and to point out humorous aspects of a situation, continues to impress me. Every day, he says countless delightful and occasionally witty things. I love to hear him talk, and I always keep my ears cocked because he frequently says something that I find exceptional. A word, a picture, or the mere inflection of my voice can unleash a whole series of verbal associations on his part.

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Today, Henry told me, referring to an aborted trip to the park yesterday (we stayed only a few minutes because it was cold and Henry was not dressed warmly enough), "I love to go to the park with you." When I called Janet from the library in the afternoon, Henry shouted to Janet, who had just answered the phone, "I want to talk to Dada." Then he said to me," Are you coming home, Dada?" When I told him I had to stay in the library and study, he said, "You can't find the books."

Yesterday, Henry said out of the blue, "Hickery dickery dock, the mouse ran up the clock." Neither Janet or I have taught him this rhyme. I got excited and asked Henry, "Who told you that?" He replied something like, "Grandpa told me." Then he recited another rhyme from one of his books (entitled "I Can Fly"):

Gubble, gubble, gubble.I'm a mubble in a puddle.I can do anything I want.*

When we were in the car on our way to the park, I told Henry another rhyme (from Walt Disney's "Snow White"): "Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to work I go." I said these words only once to Henry and he repeated them word for word.

We were looking at a picture this morning in one of Henry's books of a woman sitting in a car at a gas station while an attendant pumps gas. Henry described the picture by saying that Mommy was driving the car, that Dada was putting gas in the car, and by pointing to the front seat and saying "that's where Baby Stephen goes."

* *The rhyme actually concludes, "I can play. I'm anything that's anything. That's my way." Henry transformed this to "I can do anything I want."

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Henry is eager to communicate at all times. When he is looking at a book now and an adult is available, he will sometimes look at the pictures and say out loud to himself what they describe. (He did this today with "The Little Red Caboose," making statements such as "the train can't go up the mountain" to describe the book's contents.) This talking to himself is a sign of developing mental facilities, in my opinion.

Tuesday, December 8

I think Henry really enjoys seeing me in the evening on the days when I get home in time to see him -- that is, before he goes to bed.

Last night, I got home a little after eight. As usual, he was the first to realize that I was home. He begins shouting "It's Dada!" with great excitement the minute he hears me put the key in the door. As I am opening the door, he continues to shout and to scamper around with frenzied anticipation.

Last night, Henry told me, "I'm not Gigo. I'm not Clando. I'm not Shlando. I'm Henry."

This morning, Henry reminded me on the way to the car (I was carrying him) that he ate some nuts with me last night. He also said, "you come [i.e., came] home."

The night before last, Henry was looking through a valise in which I carry books and notebooks. When he saw several spiral notebooks, he pulled them out one by one and referred to each one as a "diary." He calls them diaries because I wrote his diary in a spiral notebook.

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Wednesday, December 9

Last night when I got home, both Henry and Stephen were awake. Henry was full of energy and enjoyed playing games such as putting a blanket over his head and having me pull it off or having me put a blanket over my head, whereupon he would pull it off, all of which amused him greatly. Henry was too rambunctious; we had difficulty getting him to go to sleep.

It seems that Henry is more apt to act up when Stephen is around. He seems to be competing with Stephen for attention.

I took Stephen into our bedroom with me last night, laid him down on our bed, and played with him for a few minutes. Stephen appeared to enjoy this greatly. He seemed delighted when I played a sort of peekaboo with him: I would turn my face away and hide it. Then I would suddenly uncover my face and bring it very close to his. en I did this, Stephen made the cute little sound of his that indicates something has pleased and amused him. It's a sound that is somewhere between a murmur and a laugh.

Stephen likes to see one's face close up. I came into the bedroom this morning and Stephen was lying awake in his crib. He always appears very contented and happy in the morning. When I bent over his crib, he gave me a big smile. He likes it when I grab his feet and move his legs back and forth.

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Last night, I made the mistake of giving Stephen a bottle that was too hot. He reacted very quickly, jerk[ing] his head and pushing the bottle away.

I observed Stephen in a crawling position (with his head held up) again last night and got the distinct impression that he is on the verge of learning how to crawl.

The night before last, Henry and I ate some pistachio nuts together. (I removed the shells for him one by one.) While I was carrying Henry to the car yesterday morning, he reminded me about having eaten the nuts. When I got home last night, he almost immediately confronted me with a request to give him some nuts. (I in fact never did give him any pistachio nuts to eat, partly because Janet was concerned that they may be difficult for him to digest.) He asked me several times during the evening to give him some nuts. Each time I "kept him at bay" by telling him to wait a few minutes. Henry had asked Janet to give him some nuts to eat when he first got home, and she had told him that I, "Dada," would give him some nuts when he got home. When Henry is promised or expecting something, he doesn't forget it.

Last night, I was taking with Henry and asked him a question about something. When he failed to respond, I followed up (as I often do) by asking him, "want me to tell you?" He replied, "Tell you. Tell me." I found this response interesting because he usually responds "tell you" in this situation, but this time he was able to correct himself and use the right pronoun (me).

I have noticed that looking at books seems to calm Henry down when he is inclined to be rambunctious. We were looking at a book about firemen last night when I asked Henry (referring to an incident about two weeks ago), "Do you remember when you saw the fireman?" He replied, "I

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saw a real fireman." I then asked Henry (hoping that he would recall that the fireman had said to him, "You want to be a fireman?"), "What did he say to you?" Henry replied, "He say hello." This is the first time I have ever heard Henry use the word "hello" in a fashion that indicates that he knows the meaning of the word.

Henry's growing ability to achieve verbal precision is indicated by an exchange I had with him while looking at a picture in his book about the fire station. I pointed to a small drawing of a dalmatian in the corner of one of the pages and asked Henry (hoping that he would be able to recall the word "dalmatian," which I taught him a month or so ago), "what's that?" He replied "a dog." I then asked him, "what kind of dog?" and he answered, "It's a white dog. It's a dalmatian."

Last night, Henry said to me, "bring me a chair." He wanted to sit in the chair and look at his fire truck, which was lying on top of the table. (Henry's head approximately reaches to the top of the table when he is standing.) I heedlessly placed the chair in a position underneath the table that was far removed from the spot where the fire truck book was lying. Henry's quaint way of saying what he means was evidenced when he said, "I want a chair by the fire truck book." When I moved the chair to the spot where he wanted it, he climbed up into it and started looking through the book.

Henry seems to have a good understanding of the use and meaning of prepositions. At one point I crawled under the table (probably to get something that Henry had dropped there) and asked Henry, "Where am I?" He answered without hesitation, "Under the table."

While talking to Janet in Henry's presence, I started spelling out words to her because I didn't want Henry to understand what I was saying. To my surprise, Henry started spelling the words back to me -- i.e., reciting

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from memory the letters he had just heard. For example, he recited back to me the exact sequence of the letters "M-O-V-I-E" on two separate occasions after I had spelled out the word. The first time he did this, it took me by surprise. The second time, I spelled the word for him and then waited for him to repeat the letters. A couple of other times, he tried to repeat the letters of words I was spelling out (including "movie") and got the letters mixed up (he recalled a few but not all of the letters).

For Janet's benefit, I asked Henry again what happened with Baba when he spit up the golabki (Polish stuffed cabbage). He said that Baba was "mad" at him. I then asked him what he said to Baba. He replied exactly in the same fashion as he did one week ago (when I first had this conversation with him) and also when I had asked him the same question a day or two ago: "I said this golabki don't spit out." I often have the sort of conversation with Henry where a previous subject will be brought up again. He always recollects precisely the details of the previous conversation.

Henry pleaded with Janet or I to give him some soda when he went to bed last night. He finally settled for some Perrier water because he had finished the only bottle of soda we had left. After several minutes, he emerged from his bedroom with the plastic yellow baby bottle which Janet had filled with Perrier and told me, "bubbles came on my shirt." One of the sleeves of his pajama top was soaked with Perrier that he had spilled (or spit?) on it.

Henry enjoyed sitting down at the upright piano and pretending to play last night. (He was amused when I briefly sat down to "play" with him.) Henry was sitting at the piano and striking the keys in a more correct fashion than he used to. (He was more inclined to bang on the keys several months ago.) I asked Henry if he would like to learn to play the piano from a teacher and he said he would like to. He undoubtedly didn't understand

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what I meant, but I think he might like to take piano lessons when he is a little older.

Thursday, December 17

Stephen seems to have changed considerably in the past couple of weeks. The most noticeable thing is how much more alert and responsive he has become. His gaze is more fixed -- I can see the look of recognition in his eyes when he sees me or when I show him an object -- and he is reaching out to touch and examine everything he can get his hands on.

This morning, we put Stephen in a bassinet (actually the detached top half of a baby carriage) in the back seat of our car. He was a little upset -- he didn't seem to like being in the back seat -- but I succeeded in comforting him by holding his hand and patting his cheek. Meanwhile, Stephen was looking at me with a clear, fixed gaze.

Last night when I got home at about 9:30, Stephen was in Janet's arms. I felt compelled to give my attention to Henry, who was very anxious to relate to me, but Stephen smiled at me a couple of times. I patted Stephen once or twice and felt that he was very aware of my presence.

Stephen has suddenly become interested in exploring his environment. Since he can't crawl yet (he is able to a limited extent to roll from one place on the floor to another), his major exploratory activity consists of reaching and grabbing for everything in sight. His hand-eye coordination is obviously improving.

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About a week or two ago, Janet got Stephen a new, rather musical sounding rattle. Stephen is intrigued by it. He likes to hold the rattle, and he also likes it when [I] hold it in front of him and shake it. Stephen is also intrigued by a paper weight of ours that contains within it "snowflakes" that fall when you turn it upside down. Stephen will frequently reach for the rattle, the paper weight, or any other object and attempt to put it in his mouth. He sometimes grabs my glasses and takes them off me before I can stop him. He has a tenacious grip (his grandmother says it is already stronger than Henry's), and I find it difficult to pry an object loose once he has grabbed it.

About two days ago, I got out the "busy box," a toy that Henry was given by Carol and David as a Christmas present in 1985. I thought Stephen might be ready for the toy now, since Henry played with it to a limited extent when he was slightly under six months old. It is a flat plastic board with moveable objects on it -- such as a dog that squeaks when you push on it, a "barber's pole" that rotates, and a mirror with a sliding door -- that an infant can reach out and touch. Stephen enjoys playing with the busy box. He seemed intrigued by it and displayed a certain adeptness for moving some of the plastic objects.

Henry is jealous of Stephen. When Stephen is playing with the busy box or his rattle, Henry tries to take it away from him. If Janet is holding Stephen, Henry will sometimes say "put Stephen down."

Janet says that Stephen has cut his first tooth.

We took Henry and Stephen with us on a shopping trip to the Scranton, Pennsylvania area last Saturday (December 12). The whole trip took about 12 hours, including about 7 hours of driving time. Both boys behaved extremely well. I was impressed by the fact that Stephen made hardly any fuss at all during the whole trip, a long one for a baby. (I am

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constantly impressed by Stephen's steady and cheerful disposition. He rarely gets upset when you would expect him to, such as when I bumped his head rather soundly on some object or other while carrying him on Saturday and he didn't burst out crying.)

We went for lunch to a restaurant in a converted railroad station in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Both boys behaved themselves very well. We took several pictures of them. I was impressed by how alert and contented Stephen looked. He was sitting on Janet's lap opposite from Henry and me, and he was looking around with obvious pleasure and contentment. Later, I held Stephen up to look out the window. One gets a sense of wonder from Stephen as he looks around. Everything is so new to him.

The waitress was surprised to see that Stephen was not able to eat any solid food. She thought from his size that he must have been close to a year old. (While changing Stephen's diaper a day or two ago, I was struck by how plump he is. He has a rounded stomach and chubby thighs, although it should be pointed out, as Janet reminded me, that Henry also had chubby thighs when he was Stephen's age. Stephen has a robust, well fed look. His plump cheeks seem to be glowing with health.)

Henry enjoyed eating chicken soup, part of a steak sandwich, and french fries and drinking a Pepsi-Cola as well as some beer. He also enjoyed scampering around the spacious restaurant, which had several different dining rooms, on his own. Within glass cases on the wall, there were two displays of large model trains that intrigued Henry. He enjoyed looking at them. (I held him up once or twice so that he could see the trains at eye level.) At one point, the waitress asked Henry, whom she had taken a liking to, to point out first the engine and then the caboose to her. I was proud of his ability to do this without difficulty. She said "where's the engine?" and "where's the caboose?" and each time he pointed out the correct car and

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emphatically said "there" or "that" for emphasis (I forget which word he used).

Prior to heading home, we stopped at a large toy store near Scranton. I kept saying to Henry something like, "I think they might have some toys here," and he would repeat this statement each time I made it. It was difficult to control him in the store because he often wandered off by himself among the aisles to look at and touch toys on the shelves. He seems to be especially interested in cars and trucks. He was intrigued by one large car in the front of the store that is big enough for a child to sit in, and he went and sat in it by himself.

One present we got for Henry (we also bought one for his cousin Cary) was an inexpensive battery operated train. While I was carrying the box, Henry saw the illustration of a train on the cover and insisted that he wanted to play with the toy right then and there. He was so insistent -- he could hardly contain himself in his eagerness to touch and play with the new toy -- that we opened the box for him in the car rather than waiting until Christmas to give him the present. The next morning, I set up the tracks so that the engine of the toy train could go whizzing around them. (When the other cars of the train were hooked up to the engine, the train tended to topple over and fall off the track.) This delighted Henry. He refers to the tracks as "the bridge." (He had another toy with a similar track-like mechanism along which little figurines moved that included a bridge.) Last night, when I talked to Henry on the phone, he told me, "The bridge is broken. Fix it." It turns out that Henry had found one or two segments of track that did not fit into the figure eight in which I had arranged the tracks; the fact that these segments were not connected to the others led him to conclude that the tracks were "broken."

My father had a mild to moderate heart attack last weekend. When I got home on Sunday night after learning the news by phone, I told Henry,

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"the other Grampy is sick," and showed him some pictures of his paternal grandfather, whom he may have recognized. (He seemed to vaguely recognize my father, but I couldn't tell for sure if [he] actually remembered him.) Henry's maternal grandparents learned the news of my father's illness from Henry, who duly told them the gist of what I had said the next day. This is another example of Henry's excellent communication abilities. He is very attentive to what he is told.

While driving to Pennsylvania with Henry on Saturday, I said something like, "He thinks I'm a sucker" to Janet. (I was making an angry reference to a driver or someone who had annoyed me.) About ten minutes later, Henry made a statement like, "think you're a sucker." He pronounced the word "sucker" slightly differently so that I didn't understand him at first; what he said sounded like gibberish. Then, when I grasped what he was saying, I realized that he had retained what I had said ten minutes ago. He is [always] doing something like this. He is attentive to what is said (particularly by me, it sometimes seems) and can repeat something almost word for word after hearing it only once or twice. In this case, I was impressed by the fact that he was able to repeat what I had said (I don't think he's ever heard the word "sucker" before) after a relatively long time interval during which my original statement had not been referred to or repeated.

This morning in the car on the way to Janet's parents I had a typical conversation with Henry where we rehashed the events of last evening, which he recalls in precise detail. For example, Janet was watching a movie (Terrence Malek's "Days of Heaven"). Henry reminded me that we saw a train in the movie, that people were dancing in it, and that there was a scene with a buffalo. He also reminded me of games we played and of amusing things he said to me last night, such as "you're a bunny rabbit" (he remembers exactly what he said), as well as of the details of a library book

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(the story of Chicken Little) that he greatly enjoyed looking at (first with Janet and later with me) last night.

Henry was especially impressed by a section in the book, which was very well illustrated, that contains drawings of a hippopotamus in a helicopter that crashes into a truck driven by Foxy Loxy (one of the characters in the book), knocking the wheels off the truck. Henry kept repeating over and over that the helicopter (which he usually refers to as an "airplane") crashed on the truck and that it "broke the wheels" of the truck. The idea of crashing obviously appeals to Henry; he says the words "crash" with emphasis.

While looking at or watching television with Henry or pointing out something in the environment to him (such as something observed while walking with him or viewed from a car window), I am often impressed by his obvious curiosity and his intense concentration. This is also true when you are telling him something. He is extremely eager to observe and to learn, and he often questions me intently, eagerly saying something like "what's that?" or "tell me."

Henry's verbal ability continues to develop. He is becoming more and more capable of combining phrases into logical statements that demonstrate his ability to analyze and interpret his experience. Here are a few examples from our conversation last night:

Henry almost slipped on the kitchen floor. I said to him "don't fall down." He replied, "It's very slippery down here."

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We were playing together on the couch.* Henry told me, "Put your foot up, so I can play the game." (He wanted me to put my feet up on the couch so that he could lean on my knees and topple over backwards when I pull my legs apart.) I was startled at his flawless grammar and especially his use (was it just an accident?) of a subordinate clause introduced by a conjunction.

In the film "Days of Heaven," there was a scene of people gathering hay in a field. Henry went on for several sentences (after I had told him the word "hay" and told him that the people were using a pitchfork) explaining what the people were doing. He said something to me like, "They throw the hay down." Henry often tries to summarize, to put into words, what he observes. He seems to have a need to describe what he is observing. He is very verbal; he takes pleasure in expressing his observations and feelings in words.

Henry was scribbling with a pen on a yellow pad last night. At one point, he made several interlaced lines (in a very messy pattern) and said, "That's a bridge choo train goes [sic]. The choo-choo train goes on top of there." I was impressed by the fact that Henry wanted to make a visual representation of the bridge (which to him is equivalent to train tracks). To me, this represents incipient synthetic ability.**

Before leaving for Pennsylvania on Saturday, we stopped at Janet's parents to pick up a baby carriage. We didn't actually go into the house; Janet's parents came out to help us get the carriage from the garage. While we were in front of the house, putting the carriage into the car, Henry * *Henry uses the words "play the game" to refer to this sort of activity, which consists of his climbing over me and then falling over, whereupon I grab him just in time to prevent him from falling.* **See Henry's "drawing" on following page.

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pointed to his grandmother, who was standing there, and said happily, "That's baba, Dada." I am rarely (almost never) with Henry when he is at his grandparents', so he proudly pointed out his grandmother to me. I found this endearing.

On Sunday (December 13), Henry and Stephen [went] with Janet, Janet's mother, and Janet's sister Marian to a Knights of Columbus-sponsored children's Christmas party in Maspeth. Both children saw and were held by Santa Claus. (It's the first time Henry has seen a Santa Claus in person.) When I got home late that night, Henry took pleasure in showing me the contents of a stocking Santa had given him (Stephen also got a stocking). Among other things, he learned the word "candy cane."

Tuesday, December 22

Last night at about 1 A.M., I gave Stephen a bottle and then played with him for a while. I may have gotten him too excited, because he had trouble getting to sleep.

Stephen loves to look at the television screen when I hold him near it. (I hold him on my shoulder, and he peers over it at the television.) Besides "watching television" briefly last night, Stephen played on the living room floor with me. When I laid him on the floor and lay down beside him at his eye level, he gave me a big smile as if to say that he was enjoying himself and my company. I also played with Stephen on the living room floor on Sunday night (December 20) and was struck by how much fun he is to play with when you are able to give him your undivided attention. I was struck again while playing with Stephen at how big and robust looking he is. Stephen has become very adept at rolling over, which is how he transports

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himself from one place to another. (This morning, I carelessly left Stephen alone on our bed for a minute. Within an instant, he had rolled to the edge of the bed, where Janet found him before I returned to the room.) Last night he was rolling all over the new living room carpet while grasping at various objects, a rattle and "the man in the snow," that I gave him to play with. Stephen has become much more active and curious about his environment in the past two to three weeks. He was by comparison much more lethargic and dull prior to that time.

Stephen seemed to be very wide awake, and he didn't want to be put back into his crib despite the fact that he was squirming in my arms. I finally brought him to Janet (who was in bed at the time), and I felt that the presence of his mother calmed Stephen down. I suspect that Stephen recognizes his parents now and can identify us as separate individuals.

I still get the same wonderful smile in the morning from Stephen, who is often lying on his back in the crib. He invariably seems peaceful and happy in the morning.

Stephen has learned to hold his own bottle while he is lying on his back drinking from it. He has difficulty holding an 8-ounce milk bottle, but he can hold the smaller-sized apple juice bottles.

For several weeks now, Stephen has been wearing "large" size disposable diapers, which he graduated to from the previous size of medium.

Henry had a delightful time Sunday (December 20) during a visit to friends of ours (a colleague of Janet's and her husband) who live in Flushing, Queens. The couple we visited had two cats that delighted Henry. They also had a balcony in their twelfth-floor apartment. I took Henry out on the balcony twice, and he enjoyed seeing the cars and people below.

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(He didn't want to go back inside the apartment.) He especially enjoyed seeing a fire engine that raced down the street in front of the building and quickly disappeared from view. When I took him out onto the balcony late in the afternoon, he asked me where the fire engine was.

After we had left the apartment, I remembered that I had left my rubbers behind and took Henry (whom I was carrying) back with me to get them while Janet proceeded with Stephen to the car. Henry and I got back into the elevator, and Henry began playing with the buttons. He pulled several buttons other than the one for the correct floor and I said something like, "We'll see what happens" (meaning "who knows what floor we'll end up on"). Henry found this amusing and picked up on it. He said "see what happens" several times and laughed when the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened abruptly and noisily. The next morning, as I was carrying him to the car, he reminded me about this humorous moment and repeated the phrase "see what happens." I am fascinated with the way Henry picks up little fragments of my conservation with him and makes them part of his own chatter.

Here are some more interesting fragments of Henry's conversation:

Recently, Henry saw a pile of new spiral notebooks that I had just bought on the floor and referred to them as "diaries" (because I use spiral notebooks to write these diary entries in).

On Sunday morning (December 20), Janet was giving Stephen a bath in the kitchen sink. Henry said, in a reference to Stephen, "He's in the dishes," a quaint way of saying that Stephen was being washed in the sink.

On Saturday morning (December 19), Henry brought two of his toys to show me and said, "Dada, school bus and city bus." "You

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got both?" I asked. Henry replied, "I got both them. . . . I got both of school buses [sic]." What intrigued me was that Henry inserted the words "of them" after the "both" in my question. Henry also said, referring to the school bus, "The door open and the children goes on." (As a matter of fact, the door in his toy school bus does open, while the door to his toy Greyhound bus, which he refers to as a "city bus," does not open.)

On Saturday (December 19), Janet was signing the Gershwin song "Summertime" to Henry when he blurted out, "So hush little baby, don't you cry," a portion of the lyrics that he had memorized. Janet has previously sung these words to Henry, but she had not done so on this occasion.

I was reading the beginning page of "The Little Engine That Could" to Henry. I read the page at least once to him,* leaving out the words "happy little train" so that Henry could "fill them in." I started to read the passage a second or third time, but when I got to the fourth sentence, Henry blurted out, "The little train rumbled over the tracks." I was unaware that he knew this sentence by heart.

Henry spontaneously broke out with the lyrics from "Snow White," "Heigh ho, it's off to work I go." I'm impressed that he remembers all the words in the correct sequence. He got them right without any hesitation or faltering in his speech.

* *Chug, chug, chug. Puff, puff, puff. The little train rolled over the tracks. He was a happy little train.

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Wednesday, December 23

This morning I played briefly with Stephen, who was lying on his back in his crib. He was frequently smiling and was happy to see me. He was vigorously moving his arms and legs and making the sound he makes when he is happy and exerts himself; it sounds something like an older person would when clearing his throat (although it is a less guttural sound). I walked out of the room briefly and Stephen immediately started to cry (he likes the contact and is by no means oblivious to the presence of others), but he cheered up after I came back again.

After Janet dressed Stephen in his light blue snowsuit (previously worn by Henry) and put his knitted hat on (the snowsuit also has a hood), Stephen got fussy. He had to lie in the crib for three to four minutes after he was all bundled up (Janet was dressing Henry), and he was uncomfortable being indoors in hot, bulky clothes.

Last night, I was observing Stephen's movements. He often assumes a crawling position while lying on the floor; when in that position, he supports himself with his outstretched arms and raises his head up in order to look around. He can't crawl yet, but he seems on the verge of crawling. He often makes sounds that indicate he is exerting himself trying to crawl. The sounds Stephen is making are also different -- a little more distinct -- than those he was making several weeks ago. A couple of days ago, when he was happy, Stephen made a "d-d-d" sound (sounding approximately like "di-di-di" with a short i). It was the first time I recall hearing him make what appeared to be the sound of a consonant, a sound which was something other than a baby's indistinct sounds.

Yesterday afternoon, I got home around quarter of four. I found Janet, Henry, and Stephen at the video rental store on Northern Boulevard, where Janet had taken the boys to see Santa Claus. Henry had his picture

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taken with Santa Claus. He told Santa that he wanted a "car" and a "truck," then amended that to "broken car" and "broken truck." What I think he meant was that he wants a new tow truck with a "broken car" for the tow truck to pull. The hook on the tow truck he has is broken so that he can't link it to the car.

Henry was full of good spirits yesterday afternoon. When I walked into the tape store, he said, "You came home." He has said that to me on several occasions in recognition of the fact that I have come home. Henry walked up to another little boy in the tape store and said to him, "I'm Henry." Then he said "gigo," one of his favorite nonsense words (the others are "clando," "shlando," and, sometimes in the past few days, "shlapo"), for the other boy's amusement.

This morning in the car with Henry, I said to him, "I'm late, I'm late for a very important date" (words from "Alice in Wonderland"). After I had said this once or twice, Henry said to me, "Tell me about the rabbit." How he made the connection between these words and the rabbit in "Alice in Wonderland" is a mystery to me. I have never told him this story, and Janet says she doesn't recall having told it to him. After reciting the words to Henry several times, I prompted him to recite them back to me by saying, "I'm --" (he knows his cue). He hesitated and said, "I'm a very important date."

Last night, I was teasing Henry by saying to him, "You're a busy bee," "you're a busy buffalo," etc. He enjoyed this and asked me to do it again this morning by saying, "tell me I'm." He likes this verbal "horseplay." (But he said for some unknown reason that he was "scared" each time I called him a "buffalo.")

Henry asked me to tell him a story about a trolley car last night. He got very excited when I told him a story about how he and I went on a

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trolley car with Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. He likes these Walt Disney characters and said that he would like to go see them someday. (I [hope] Janet and I will be able to take him and Stephen to Disney World in Florida while they are still young enough to be enthralled by it.) When Henry gets excited while being told a story, he begins to talk and confabulate in an animated fashion, making up parts of the story himself.

Henry still drinks from his bottle (although he drinks much less milk than he used to) and wears a diaper most of the time.

Thursday, December 24

Last night, I got home late, and Henry was very glad to see me. Janet was sleeping with Stephen in our bed, but Henry was still awake, although he was lying down. He got up and played with me for an hour; he was a delight to be with, since he was very affectionate and eager to commune with me.

Henry will get one of his toys -- such as a toy house of his or his fire truck -- and say "can you play with me, Dada?" or "play with me, Dada." He likes to show me different features of the toys and constantly talks to me while doing so.

Just before he went to bed, Henry practiced "writing" with a pen. Then he asked me to draw him an Indian. (I believe his words were "make an Indian.") He was intrigued when I drew a crude picture of an Indian with a feather in his hair, and he kept repeating the request "make an Indian" over and over again. He was also trying to make "drawings" himself. After a few minutes (it was past eleven o'clock), I decided that the game had to

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come to an end and that it was time for Henry to go to bed. He was really upset and begged me to give the pen back to him so that he could continue scribbling on the paper. When he realized he wasn't getting anywhere with me, he went in desperation to Janet (who was half asleep in our bed) and pleaded with her to give him the pen. Big tears were rolling down Henry's cheeks, and I felt very sorry for him. When I got him into bed, he calmed down and listened with his usual keen interest when I told him something about bumblebees.

Something or other I said (I forget what) scared Henry. He snuggled up against my chest for reassurance and fell asleep that way. It was wonderful to feel so close to Henry. I believe he often falls asleep this way with Janet, but he never does with me, and he rarely cuddles up to me like that.

I have noticed that Henry often likes to identify things by colors ("green car," "red shirt," etc.) but that he often gets his colors mixed up.

Last night, Henry proudly recited the following rhyme from one of his books ("I Can Fly") to me:

Gubble, gubble, gubble,I'm a mubble in a puddle.I can do anything I want,That's my way.

He got most of it exactly right, although he condensed and paraphrased the last two lines slightly.

Last night, Henry told me that he wants a fireman's hat from Santa Claus. As a matter of fact, Janet did buy him a fireman's hat (which is hidden in the living room closet) for Christmas.

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