As he stands in front of my computer, pointing intently at the screen, you could almost convince yourself that he understands more about the machine than you do–and, honestly, maybe he does. His pointing is then followed by a chant that is followed by a question mark that together are impossible to ignore: “Elmo? Elmo?!” ELMO!?”
When you’re 19 months old and you have been shown something that tickles your fancy, you only need to have been shown the one time for it to have left an indelible mark on your memory. For August, it’s Elmo, specifically Elmo on YouTube. Precisely one time I showed him a video of “Elmo’s Song.” He liked it and now believes with sufficient authority that Elmo resides in our computer and is available and at the ready the second I sit down to work or write or check email.
So, everything stops–as it should. August’s emphatic chant cannot be ignored. I pick him up, place him on my lap, and proceed to scour YouTube for duets between Elmo and the myriad celebrities whose sweet factor goes up exponentially in my mind just for their having spent two minutes and thirty-six seconds with this charming ball of red fur. And August sits still–for as long as I’m willing to hold him on my lap, cheek to cheek–and watches and claps and beams with delight as Elmo dances, sings, and laughs on the monitor. And as my sweet baby is most assuredly moving from “baby” to very busy “toddler,” I find myself more and more “willing to hold him my lap” as long as I possibly can.