An earlier Daily Press column

Here's a Daily Press column from about a month ago. Since this column, Brody has been out and about and loving it. He's even started swimming classes at the YMCA (which we both love!).

(This is the image that runs with the column every week.)

Even infants don't need to be babied

I've recently discovered that my 8-month-old son, Brody, is just like me in one specific way — he's a go-and-doer.

Recently, snow, wind and fears of the evil flu bug have kept my chunky baby boy sequestered at home for a little more than two weeks. It didn't take him long to mount an organized and persistent protest.

Admittedly, I'm a little embarrassed that it's taken me this long to figure out that boredom is the primary source of his fussiness. Brody has shown signs of "high intelligence" — according to a few sympathetic friends — since the day we brought him home from the hospital.

He howled when we strapped him into his car seat for the first time, a howl that didn't stop until my husband took him across the hospital threshold. And when he was just weeks old, bouts of crying could be immediately shushed by opening the back door and letting the sun shine on him. We started calling him our little outdoorsman, because fresh air seemed to be the miracle cure for our perpetually cranky child.

At barely 2 months old, Brody nicely weathered his East Coast family tour, making stops in Tennessee, South Carolina and North Carolina. It was only after we made the mistake of staying in one place too long that Brody's cranky side made an appearance.

"Oh, he's spoiled," says my grandmother, often.

That's partly true.

But I remember how frustrating it was when my mom would admonish me to be more like my little brother, Shawn.

"Shawn knows how to play by himself," my mom would say as I persistently requested playtime ideas. "You should learn to use your imagination like him."

Even now, I can't take a 15-minute drive without searching through my cell phone address book for someone to call.

But, as the old cliche goes, I have, in fact, turned into my mother.

This became even more clear last week as I interviewed potential baby sitters and reflected on the cocoon I've been weaving for the past eight months.

Petrified by coughs, sniffles and general ickiness, I've taught family members and friends to make a stop at the kitchen sink for a thorough hand washing before handling the goods. Trips to the grocery store are sanitized with cart covers and pacifier holders. My mother-in-law even covered her face with a surgical mask when she came home with the Christmas crud.

When he was born at the end of June, it was too hot to stay outside for any length of time. And then it was much too cold. Or windy, or raining, or flu season.

When I have no choice but to take him out of the house, I am always surprised by his good behavior. He carries on full baby-babble conversations while waiting in checkout lines and dutifully smiles at white-haired grandmothers whose children live in different states.

He watches, interested as I explain the contents on the cereal aisle and point out the screaming toddler a few feet away."That is not how good little boys act," I whisper to him encouragingly, a technique borrowed from my mom. "I would never do that," his round, brown eyes relate.

So when a family friend wanted to take Brody shopping, I encouraged her. It was getting warmer, after all. And when Brody's behavior issues vanished after a few days of regular outings, I knocked myself in the head with exasperation. How could I be so blind?

In my effort to protect him, I did what I always said I would never do — I babied him. I babied an 8-month-old little boy so much, he couldn't stand to be stuck in his house for one more day.

So, as I let him roll around in the grass and dirt over the weekend, and packed him up to head to the store at 7:30 p.m. one night, I worked hard not to cringe. I even laughed when he almost stuffed a ladybug in his mouth.

And as we embarked on our new adventures, I made a silent promise. "Brody, flu season, or not, I will never lock you up in this house again."