An interesting experience.

We live in an old, old house, and the doors and doorframes aren't necessarily trued up anymore, and also the doors and their mechanisms are pretty old themselves. Some of our doors swing into a closed position but the mechanism doesn't actually latch. Some can only be closed by wedging the door into the doorframe so they're sort of stuck closed. Some of them close with no problems. Every day is an adventure, especially as Colin gets more and more proficient at operating doors. (He can't turn a doorknob, of course, but you don't need to do that to open most of our doors.)

Early this morning I went into the study to check my e-mail. To keep Colin in the room, I closed the door firmly, engaging the latch. I don't know, this may have been the first time we ever did that - just pushing the door into a more or less closed position used to be good enough for any reasonable purpose.

Time passed. Colin needed a diaper change. I picked him up and turned the door handle. It spun freely in my hand.

I tried turning it in different directions. I tried just pulling. I tried wiggling the knob. I tried reaching up to the top of the door (there's a sizable gap at the top of the frame) and slipping my fingers in to try to pull it open that way. Nothing worked.

Fortunately, the tool box is currently stored in the study closet. I got a flat screwdriver and slid it between the door and the jamb. Unfortunately, I was on the "long" side of the vaguely triangular latching mechanism, and I couldn't depress it with the screwdriver.

I shouted for Alex a dozen or so times until she finally woke up. She came out and tried to open the door from her side, but couldn't even budge the knob. I asked her to go downstairs and get the phone (although I'm not sure what I envisioned happening next, because it's not like she could've passed it to me), and instead she began to weep. So I hunted around until I found an old corded phone we don't use anymore, unplugged the DSL modem, plugged the phone in, and called Michael. He suggested that I might be able to reach the latching mechanism from inside if I removed the doorknob.

So I unscrewed the doorknob and the metal plate around it, and was left with a tiny hole - maybe 3/8 inch. It was clear that I wasn't going to be able to reach the latching mechanism through that. I tried some more with the screwdriver. On her side of the door, Alex got increasingly upset because she didn't understand why I didn't just come out and help her with her morning routine. On my side of the door, Colin desperately needed a diaper change and was very unhappy every time I set him down to fiddle with the door. Also, he really wanted to get into the toolbox.

I called Michael again. He agreed to start walking home to rescue us.

Finally Alex removed the doorknob on her side, as well as the long pin that connects the two knobs. Once that was out, the whole metal frame that held the lock, latching mechanism, and doorknob assembly was more able to wiggle. I abandoned any attempt to keep from damaging the doorjamb and set to work again with the flat screwdriver. This time I was able to push the whole mechanism thingie deeper into the door, and it disengaged from the latch. Whew. The jamb has some flaked paint and a couple of gouges, but it could have been a lot worse.

I praised Alex for her efforts. Changed, by this point, not only Colin's diaper but his entire outfit from the skin out. And left the doorknob disassembled, just in case.

It was an exciting start to the day, all right.

Moral of the story: NEXT TIME JUST PUT UP A DAMN BABY GATE.

Developmental update: Colin at 12 months.

Colin walked partway across the study this evening - a remarkably steady six- or eight-foot journey. He must have known that I had a developmental update in the works.

This has been a long time coming. He's been so steady on his feet: standing independently, reaching down to pick something off the floor from a standing position, even dancing while standing. A few times he's taken a few little side-steps, edging himself along crabwise. Then, suddenly, this (relatively) long, assured walk. He's walking.

He's been preoccupied with the large-motor stuff in general. The latest obsession is climbing onto the furniture. We have a couple of child-size straight chairs, and Colin likes nothing better than to climb on, crow at his achievement, climb off, and then climb on again. He can almost get up on the low futon in the study and the low rocking chair in the living room. He cries with frustration when he can't. If we give him a boost, or he finds a toy to stand on, he gives us his biggest grin and his crowing laugh. He absolutely loves to climb into the little wagon we gave him for Christmas. I thought he'd like to push it, and he does, but he likes to get in and out of it even more.

Colin also loves to open and close doors. Cabinets and drawers, too, but doors are his favorite. Most of the doors in our house don't latch properly, and he patiently works his fingers into the cracks until he can swing them open. Then he's very proud. And he should be; he's ingenious and persistent, and it pays off. He can easily open things like Rubbermaid storage containers with snap-down handles.

He's developed a real love of books. His first love was Moo, Baa, La La La, and in honor of that, I guess, he consistently says "lalala" when he wants to be read to - no matter which book he's brandishing. He likes the same book read over and over and over. Sometimes he is so excited about rereading that he can't wait for us to finish the first read, and he snatches the book, closes it, and hands it back over for us to begin again. When he settles in to be read to he grins and clasps his hands in front of him. It's unbearably cute.

He's very focused on the pictures in books. Alex, as an infant, was much more focused on the words. When Colin is being read to, you can watch his eyes intently scanning the pictures.

He loves dolls. Baby dolls get hugged and cuddled and touched and brought to an adult for cuddling. But he also loves Alex's tiny Polly Pocket dolls. I've seen him hold one of them in one hand and a dress in the other and sort of bash them together; it's clear that he knows that you're supposed to dress them. He also likes to play with toy vehicles, balls, nesting cups, and stacking rings. And anything of Alex's, really.

He has three clear and recognizable words: Dada, Mama, and A-leh (Alex). I also think of lalala as a word because it definitely means something consistent. He is also good with communicative gestures: he points and gazes intently when he wants something, shakes his head "no" when you get something wrong, tugs on the bottom of my shirt when he wants to nurse.

He nurses enthusiastically, but these days he's also very much about regular meals of table food. He has strong opinions about getting to try everything that we eat; he'll point and make urgent noises until we hand over bits of pork roast or whatever else we initially thought was unsuitable for babies. He's started to demand to have his bowl or plate set on his tray so he can help himself. He hasn't eaten baby food for a while now. Interestingly, he's also resistant to taking bottles of breastmilk from our nanny. I am psyched about that, because if we can transition him to taking cow's milk from a cup when I'm at work I can STOP PUMPING. He already drinks water well from a sippy cup.

For all these mature eating habits, he's still marching steadily along at the 10th percentile for weight, 50th for height. He's a little string bean. Today was his one-year-old well baby visit, and he weighed 18 pounds, 10 ounces.

He's been sick for a week or two, so that's probably partly why he's less unfailingly happy than he was before. But he's also become less laid back. He has a definite will, and he cries when he's thwarted. He is still super affectionate and snuggly, though.



He still thinks Alex absolutely hung the moon.