Emerson Goes to Hollywood

The other night, we were walking Emerson around Ann Arbor when we passed two men asking passersby for spare change. One of them stopped us and asked why Emerson had “those color eyes?” (This is one interesting part of having a baby with albinism– panhandlers are too busy watching him to ask us for money. We had a similar incident in Boston when a woman who was missing several teeth and asking for change on the street corner stopped us to ask about him. We ended up having a long conversation about baby's teething with her.)

We answered this man’s questions and were surprised that his friend jumped in with several of the answers as well. And he was mostly accurate (he claimed it affected one in 30,000 people, but hey, close enough). As the conversation winded down, the first man shook his head in disbelief and crooned, “That is the most beautiful baby I have EVER seen! You should take him to Hollywood.”

He then proceeded to “coootchy-coo” the baby’s cheek with his finger, which caused what’s becoming a familiar scene lately – Emerson having a slow panic attack. His eyes get big, he starts breathing quickly, whimpers a little, and then squeezes out two fat tears that roll down his cheeks. I can almost hear him saying to himself, “Come on, hold it together…be brave.” And then he totally loses it and throws himself into my arms for a comfort nursing session. It’s pretty embarrassing when your child goes through this “stranger anxiety” phase, but at the same time, we can’t help but think his little meltdowns are adorable.

In other Emerson news, he FINALLY started saying “baba” a couple days ago. Most babies start babbling consonants at 6-7 months, so we have spent the past three months endlessly encouraging him to say “mama” “dada” “baba” – anything besides AHHHHHHH. We meet with the Early Intervention coordinator this week to finally get a full evaluation, so he may still get some speech therapy, but hearing him say baba is the highlight of my life right now.

He is also pulling up on things on his own now (although I have to get him positioned since he can’t crawl) and he’s slowly attempting to creep around more. Please send us lots of crawling vibes….I don’t care what people say about how much harder a crawling baby is. Nothing could be harder than a whiny, frustrated, clingy baby who desperately wants to move out into the world, however tentatively.

And with that overly detailed update, I’m off to get Emerson’s resume and headshot ready for Hollywood.