Duck Soup

Indulge me while I share an impossibly cute video of Jericho. Sorry, I can't help it.

Jericho is not really talking yet. When Jade was almost two, she was conversing about post-structuralist theory in complete, grammatically correct paragraphs (if I remember correctly). Jericho converses with gestures (or "jesters," as his daycare teacher recently wrote), signs, sounds, and a few words.

He can growl. He can say "uh oh!" He has made up some words -- he says "gunga" for nurse, for instance. He repeats some words over and over, like "side," which means outside.

Compared to Jade, he's a bit delayed. But it could just be that he's a boy.

Slack Like Me

There's a new book out that gives introverts some measure of satisfaction. Susan Cain has just published, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, an appreciation of those who eschew the limelight.

I guess the limelight is OK, if it's indirectly focused on our work. But introverts like me get sweaty palms and knotted intestines when we have to stand up and speak, putting the focus on ourselves, the physical person. As you can imagine, this tendency can make being a trial lawyer challenging.

During a recent trial I spent the morning being yelled at alternately by the judge and my client. Neither one was happy with me. Both parties were crazy. I think if I could have taken the handcuffs off my client and exchanged them for the judge's robe, all things would have remained fairly equal. Trial could have proceeded as before -- with my client on the bench and the judge sitting next to me as the defendant -- and society would have remained just as safe.

But the uncontrollable physical reaction I had to beginning the trial each day is something I'm sure many introverts suffer. Right before the jury came out, I would feel cold and shaky. My hands got clammy, and my bowels seized up. And, of course, there was a week of sleeplessness and misery. I don't think natural extroverts get that way. I think they thrive on the attention, the pressure, the rush.


Cain was a lawyer, so her take on introverts is that they suffer in their quietude. She assumes that we long to peel away our thin skin and emerge as extroverted superheroes. Lawyers notwithstanding, most introverts do just fine, thank you very much. Scientists, writers, musicians, artists, even teachers subscribe to the backrooms of life. It's not so bad in here. So shut up, and leave me alone.

If a Blog Posts in the Forest, Does Anyone Read It?

The blogging world is like a city full of skyscrapers that this country bumpkin has her head stretched up to see. Not only are there an infinitesimal numbers of blogs out there on everything from conspiracy theories to haunted film decor, there are infinitesimal numbers of blogs about blogging. It's all pretty overwhelming.

I like blogging, but I'm feeling lonely out here in the blogosphere. So please comment, even if it's snarky. And like me or Digg me or tweet me or do whatever else you have to do to get me some damn attention!

A Boy's Kitchen

I've noticed that Jericho doesn't go much for trucks and trains. But he really likes kitchens. Give him a toy kitchen, and he'll spend lots of time opening and closing cupboards, putting stuff in and taking it out again. So I jumped at the chance to buy a lightly used, well-loved kitchen from a neighbor here in Mt. Airy.

As I was picking the kitchen up from behind my neighbor's row house, I was happy to meet the little boy who had played with it for many happy years. "I had a lot of fun with that kitchen," he told me. It makes me happy to think that toy kitchens in this day and age can be passed on with good recommendation from boy to boy.