Firsts

As Ocean’s first birthday nears, I can’t help but find myself thinking about all of my firsts growing up. My father was the one who put me to bed most often when I was younger, this was due largely in part to the fact that my mom was busy with a newborn by the time I was six. Bedtime routine was pretty standard fare—story time, followed by discussion and analysis of said story, possibly a discussion about Sandy the surfing dog, or the man whose legs were eaten by a shark, yet how he still managed to surf on his hands, and then, a back rub to quiet the mind and settle me in for a good night’s rest.

A few firsts happened during this traditional evening endeavor. One such event, the reading of my first “real” book, Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe, was a milestone that I shall never forget, one that has placed isolation on a deserted island in a very sentimental place in my heart. I still have the copy of that book, just waiting for Ocean’s curious hands to pick it up and start flipping through it.

Many times I’m reminded of our nighttime traditions while I am playing with Ocean on the floor of her room. She has begun to like the idea of cuddling, be it only for a few seconds, 10 seconds if I’m lucky, but we’re making progress just the same. Anyway, I believe this new found interest in cuddling stems back to my back rubs when I was younger. You see, Ocean is incredibly fond of the feeling of my nails being dragged lightly across her back—I know this because she can be in the middle of playing with her favorite toy and I will begin said massage; causing her eyes to glaze over and her body to freeze in whatever position she happened to be in when the tickle rub commenced. I’m immediately transported back to my dad bringing out a surprise for me during one of our nights together: Honeycomb.

This glorious structure was a part of material he used to make his surfboards, it was pliable enough to maintain its shape while still remaining easy to manipulate. But all that aside, honeycomb served an even better, more profound and significantly more important purpose: It was the ultimate tickle rub material. Honeycomb was necessary for a proper rub, because my dad, being a typical mad scientist had no fingernails whatsoever to speak of, and we all know that with no fingernails, one cannot receive a really good tickle rub.

I think about this honeycomb heaven many times whilst rubbing Ocean’s back--I find myself wondering if she will remember the rubs I gave her while playing on her floor amongst all her toys. I wonder if she will remember and treasure her first “real” book, I wonder if I’m making her firsts as memorable and easily plucked from her memory as mine are. I hope so. I hope she has honeycomb like tales to tell her children, or to draw upon when she looks back at her childhood. I hope her firsts are as treasured as mine.