The Blague from Prague: Osm and a Half

Today is Ben's half-birthday. Last July -- in the midst of us packing our belongings, prepping the house for renters, and remodeling the bathroom -- Ben turned eight (“osm” in Czech, which sounds more than a little like “awesome”).

Ben took the chaos in stride, even chose a celebration at an amusement park with the family and his lifelong friend, Nate, over a big birthday party. Which was delightful for us: more fun, less work.

Benjamin Harold showed us right from the start that hurrying was not his style. He was born 16 days after his “due” date following a labor that culminated in five and a half hours of pushing.

(pause for groan)

Ben arrived in the center of a circle of women cheering and encouraging me to Get This Baby OUT! Karl, every bit as eager as the ladies, was much less demonstrative until Ben was born -- then he wept openly with the rest of us.

Upon arrival, Ben grimaced and blinked at the light, looked around to determine what just happened, and then snuggled into my arms. (To this day there are mornings when I wake him up and, looking at his face, think his mannerisms haven't changed all that much since that hot summer day in Seattle.) For a brief moment he seemed slightly put out to have been disturbed, but then he exuded a presence of calm and belonging, as if he couldn't imagine being anywhere else, doing anything other than gazing into his parents' eyes.

He was the most gorgeous creature I'd ever seen.

Though we've never visited the internal world of Ben's mind, we do get amazing postcards and dispatches. Ben has a mind-boggling ability to grasp concepts and commit facts to memory. Over pancakes this morning, Karl and the boys were discussing the latest Večerníček series, Říkání o víle Amálce, or the Stories of Amalka the Fairy. Karl mentioned that víla (with an accent on the “i”) meant fairy or sprite but vila (no accent) meant country residence or villa. Ben drew a quick in-breath as his head snapped up.

“Oh! So that show we saw advertised last month was really called 'Winter Fairy' not 'Winter Villa'!” Ben remarked.

With his head slightly cocked and his gaze drifting up and into the distance, Karl smiled and nodded at having his son correct his Czech translation.

Ben's vocabulary has always been way beyond his years. At four, Ben regularly used words like “rather” and “whereas.” Correctly. Which reminds me -- he was also a bit of an adverb junkie, peppering his commentary with adamant exclamations of “Actually!” and “Surprisingly” and “Disappointingly ….” This sounded all the more out of place before he learned how to say “L” and “R”. ("suh-pwising-wee...")

But if Ben is known for anything, it's his love of reading. One of the journal prompts his class had in kindergarten read: “If I could spend the night at school, I would want to stay in ______ because _______.” It was no surprise to anyone when Ben wrote “I would want to stay in the library, because then I could read books all night!” In every classroom situation since preschool, Ben's teachers have adored his passion for books. Until they don't.

“It's becoming a problem,” the teacher would say, usually about three months into the school year. “I've never said this before, but I really want Ben to choose an activity other than reading or looking at books during free-choice time.”

We heard some version of this in preschool, kindergarten, and first grade. The teachers, confident in Ben's comfort with and interest in books, wanted to make sure that his social development progressed along with his reading ability.

(Thus far, Ben's current teacher, Miss Logan, is in the adoration phase.)

Not that Ben doesn't love all the regular things that kids love: climbing trees, laughing at poop jokes, building with Legos, playing games on the playground, and running races. He always wants us to devise a race course and time him running it. And he's pretty fast, too … when he wants to be. His friend Alex –– who's an incredible athlete –– once noted, “Ben's a really fast runner. But he's a really sloooow walker!”

Long fascinated by science, Ben is our go-to guy when it comes to anything regarding dinosaurs, space, or the world around him.

His thirst for knowledge keeps us on our toes. Back in Oneonta Karl was preparing a bath for Ben one night when Ben asked, "What's sex?"

Karl stammered for only a moment before responding, "Well, that's what animals do when they mate. That's how babies are made. It's how mammals make babies, including humans."

Karl's satisfaction at meeting the question head on was deflated as soon as Ben presented the follow up:

"What's amazing sex?"

The next week It's So Amazing arrived in the mail from Amazon, and Ben delved into it eagerly.

(And, parents? Let this be a cautionary tale of what can happen when you leave The New Yorker on the back of the toilet.

This is the cover that inspired Ben's query.)

It would be hard to quantify all the ways that Ben has matured this year. He's more open to trying new foods, and he doesn't complain throughout a less favorite dish (that was a major milestone). He demonstrated new depths of strength and grace in facing the school challenges of this year. And his sense of contentment has grown as well. Though he's not particularly comfortable in front of the camera, I see it in some pictures –– a softened face, a confident presence.

It has been a delight to show Ben the fun of exploration and discovery in our travels. His sense of wonder, his ability to make connections, and enthusiasm for learning enrich us all.