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Home › Articles › Fiction/Opinion/Essays › Intimate Interview

Intimate Interview

Words From a 1-Year-Old

By Madelyn Rosenberg

Pages:  1  2  

I interviewed my son for his first birthday. I knew he wouldn't have a lot to say, given that his vocabulary consisted of eight words and none of them were verbs. But it was a big year for us, and I needed to document it with more than my weary camera. I'm not Walter Cronkite, so the conversation went something like this:

Me: Well, it's been quite a year.

Graham: Duck.

Me: Remember our old apartment? You slept in a crib in the hall.

Graham: Duck.

Me: I can't believe you're a year old!

Graham: Duck!

It was a satisfactory answer; "duck" was his first word and thus, worthy of being recorded. After that, though, the interview lost its focus.

"What does a sheep say?" I asked, doubting Cronkite had ever posed a similar question. "Baaa," said Graham. "And what's this?" I had quickly resorted to props. "Ball," said Graham. "Ball!"

The interviews that take place during his teen years will likely elicit similar, monosyllabic responses:

Me: Alright, Sweetie, it's time for your birthday interview.

Graham: Why?

Me: Because it's tradition, that's why. Now what was the best thing that happened to you all year?

Graham: (Shrugs)

Me: Come on. It'll only take 10 minutes.

Graham: Five?

I try to imagine what his voice will sound like then. Deep – a radio voice, like his father's. He has yet to utter a swear word. Sneezes make him laugh. His only sadness now is a bad dream he can't explain or the word "no." I hope, as all parents do, that he knows no worse than this. I know, as all parents do, that he will.

That's why I want to get it down now. I want us to remember, 40 years out, that he liked Curtis Mayfield and that his favorite bath toy was the blue whale that decorated my first mixed drink the year I turned 21. I want us to remember what our voices sounded like when his was high and sweet, when mine didn't crack with age.

My son toddles toward me like a drunk in an old Bogart film. Having him was obviously the highlight of my year, but I still wonder: What was the highlight of his? He raises an eyebrow and gives me a wise look so that I think maybe this time he can tell me. The tape recorder has been off for days, but I ask him again. "What's the best thing you can think of? The best thing that happened to you all year long?"

Graham places a small, warm hand on my bare knee. "Duck," he says.


Pages:  1  2  

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