Young Master Tillman is proving to be an extremely visual child. The mere sight of his dad sends him into fits of foot-kicking, whole-body-wriggling glee. The vision of his pureed food being mixed in a bowl makes him squeal in open-mouthed anticipation. Shadows on the wall are a ready excuse to keep the eyes open at naptime. And then, of course, there is the television. Ian and I, who both watched more television than was probably good for us in a past life, have both made heroic efforts to cut back to almost no TV at all. We instituted this change after becoming fearful that his first word might come from 'The Sopranos'. It turns out, however, that Max's love for the television transcends its on/off status. We were playing on the floor the other day ( a lot of our lives now take place within a foot of the ground), and Max kept turning around to look at the screen, which was a) inconveniently located behind him and b) NOT EVEN ON! Here he is holding out one of his rings as a sacrificial offering to the HBO gods. We may have to become Amish.
P.S. I know that this hat screams 'Davis Parent' really loudly, and I never pegged myself as one of those parents who would become overly obsessed with UV rays or organic cotton fibers, but I have come to terms with the Davis Parent that dwells within me. And if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit his cuteness while wearing it. Go ahead. It's okay. Admit the cuteness. You'll feel a lot better.