Flipping for Fliers

Lately Dorian wants everything. A few months or even weeks ago we could just carry him around and he would be content to look over our shoulders at whatever receded behind him. Now, though, he insists on facing forward. Sometimes in his haste to become involved with whatever I’m doing, he'll turn himself so abruptly that I’ll sway from the momentum of his eager little body.

Yesterday, for example, I sorted the mail while holding him. Upon seeing my bounty, Dorian lunged forward and plucked a solicitation for DirectTV out of my hand. His face lit up as if to say: Great! I’ve been waiting for this!

Leaning back against my shoulder, he explored this latest phenomenon. He turned the envelope over and over, upside down and backwards.

Dorian held this piece of junk mail so reverently, so tenderly, as if it were a handwritten invitation, gilded and rare. An invitation he then jammed in his mouth.

To this little creature, there is nothing annoying about being spammed. It’s just yet another reason for rapture.

Splish! Splash!

It's hard to believe Dorian ever fit into this little bucket. It's now used as a ladle to fill the bigger white tub.

When these pictures were taken, Dorian was basically a passive bather. Now, half a year later, he loves bath time. It's a source of both pleasure and concentration.

His mission- one he delights in fulfilling- is to displace as much of the water as loudly and abruptly as possible.

This nighttime venture is most successful when mommy gets soaked. Extra points if she's soaked unawares. To this end, Dorian tends to favor the surprise kicks. (Is it possible to suspect a seven-month-old of stealth?) One minute he's peaceful, contemplative, slowly luring mommy closer to keen some long-overdue praise and then Splash! he kicks. Splish! He flails. Soaking faces, dripping mirrors, flooded floors. Very, very amusing.

Lately, though, the waters have receded. Global warming? No. Three tiny blue whales. Mommies know a little about stealth, too.

Now that he has toys in the tub, his mission statement has evolved. Dorian's purpose is to capture and hoard every last blue beasty. No easy task with such small fingers and such slippery creatures.

But, he's surprisingly good at it. He'll turn on his side and grab one whale and put it on his chest for safe-keeping. Of course it falls off as soon as he turns on his other side to go for another one. This doesn't bother him at all.

Meanwhile, I get to work with a washcloth and Dorian continues plucking and placing, barely noticing that these days he's the one getting soaked behind the ears.

The Final Frontier

On Sunday afternoon Mitch & I took Dorian to explore some far flung planets. He’s a flinging kind of guy, so we thought he’d be impressed.

He was.

As were we.

The Chabot Space and Science Center sits in our favorite stretch of woods atop Roberts Regional Park. We pass it on our hikes as we pant up the hill.

Nearly every time we glimpse its elegant dome glinting in the East Bay sun, Mitch mentions that he can’t wait to take Dorian there one day to introduce him to astronomy. (Not astrology- he’s interested in planets, not psychics.)

Chabot shares its toys with the public on weekend nights. Before Dorian came along, Mitch & I climbed the tiny ladder to peer through the 36” lens. This computer controlled telescope is so powerful that the staff astronomers use it to conduct planetary research. They do, that is, when Mitch isn’t using it to gawk at the rings of Saturn or exclaim over the Milky Way’s frothy swirl of planets.

So for Mitch’s birthday, Dorian & I got him a year’s pass to this wonderful place. Sunday was our first venture in as a family. It was so much fun to watch Dorian and his dad exploring together. Mitch encouraged him to touch all the 3-D models of the planets and turned in place so Dorian could watch some kids careening in circles. Dorian watched in open mouthed concentration as their shrieks rose along with their velocity.


We spent most of our time exploring the solar system exhibit, dropping balls into a gravity well (my favorite), adjusting the pressure in volcano simulation (Mitch’s), swiping at the rolling, shiny balls that simulate orbiting planets (you know who’s favorite).


Apparently all little people are born scientists, constantly conducting little experiments. They’re just so cute in their tiny white smocks, rubbing dimpled hands together and cackling over steaming beakers. In addition to a child’s natural predilection to hands on discovery, Dorian also definitely inherited his father’s love of exploring the natural world. (Until discovering the space museum, though, Dorian’s specialty focused on gravity and echolocation, as experienced through mashed peas.)


Leaving the interactive exhibit, we watched Searching for Life in the planetarium, a huge theatre with a 360 degree screen. We leaned back and took in the dubious pleasure of vertigo by soaring through space, visually exploring galaxies. The film was incredible. It took you from one mile below the bottom of our ocean, where life has been found not only in the absence of light, but in outrageously unappealing conditions. From the lava baths, the film pulled you up through the ocean and through the hemisphere to orbit the Earth and well beyond.

In the beginning of the movie, Dorian lay under my wrap, considering his napping options. However, the sound of Harrison Ford telling us that there are more planets than stars proved too exciting for him. When I peeked under the shawl to see how he was doing, I saw his curious eyes peering back at me, hands and feet twitching with appreciation.

I lifted off the privacy curtain and revealed to him the amazing sights his father & I were enjoying. At that point the movie was careening among the big gas planets, swerving and looping in the endless black space.

Dorian lifted his hand and tried to touch Jupiter. It was so moving to see his upturned face, marveling at the wonders of this world.

Planets, peaches, people. All rank equally high on our little scientist’s scale of wonder.