I don’t consider myself the superstitious type. I occasionally knock some wood and usually try to say “rabbit rabbit” at the start of every month, but that’s about it.
Of course, that was before I became a dad.
These days I might as well be Shirley Maclaine for all the bullshit I find myself believing. There’s just NO WAY a filthy anarchist monkey like Curious George gets invited to that many parties, but I just keep playing along.
My son has started playing pretend. With a vengeance.
And it’s freaking me out.
Kids are stress-inducing.
Unfortunately, they’re also time-consuming, which makes it difficult to alleviate your stress, and stay healthy, via the time-tested method of exercise. If you don’t have time, you probably aren’t going to bother shelling out for a gym membership you’ll rarely use. And good luck with trying to use that treadmill you bought during his nap; if there’s a louder piece of equipment this side of the drum-kit my in-laws bought my son, I haven’t come across it.
What’s a parent to do?!
Don’t fret; I have a solution! Like Rocky in Siberia (actually, it was filmed in Krasnogourbinsk, but come on), you have to work with what you’ve got. In this case, what you’ve got are kids.
Luckily, they’re even better than a Bowflex!
A few people have mentioned to Mom and Buried and me that Detective Munch has a good vocabulary for a kid his age. I don’t disagree, I mean, I’ve got him speaking jive, singing Christmas (and Beastie Boys) songs, and telling people “See ya later, alligator!” He can say some solid stuff.
Of course, he’s only two, so his vocabulary isn’t that good. Plus, a lot of the things he says are barely recognizable as English, and are probably only decipherable by me and Mom and Buried, if at all. And that so-called good vocabulary gets a lot worse when he’s distraught.
When he’s upset, whether it’s because he’s being a brat or because he got a boo-boo, words go out the window. Which can make solving – or even identifying – the problem quite tricky.
The last time I wrote about my son’s penis, I ignited a firestorm in the comments.
Seriously. The two most controversial posts I’ve written have been about circumcision and My Little Pony. Both drew tons of angry readers. Not sure what the connection is.
This one isn’t about anything nearly as controversial as men who like cartoons that are made for little girls, but it does involve my son being naked. I also threw Return of the Jedi into it. So maybe the Bronies and the anti-circumcision crowd can find some common ground when I talk about…
The reality of being a dad has a way of completely upending your pre-parent expectations.
A few months ago, I wrote about looking forward to the “Rose Is Rose” portion of toddlerhood, in which my son would babble adorably and I’d be forced to puzzle out what he was saying. Like a sophisticated, more intelligent version of The Da Vinci Code (with much less Jesus but a much better vocabulary).
Unfortunately, it’s not difficult to decipher my sons favorite words, most of which revolve around refusing to eat things, refusing to do things and refusing to stop doing things. It’s not really that adorable.
The funny pages lied to me.
About two years ago, barely more than a month into the whole “Wow, I own a baby!” thing, I wrote a post comparing babies to lunatics. I’ve resurrected it below.
Little did I know that toddlers were about 8000 times more insane. Sure, they’re more fun than babies but they are a lot more unpredictable. The only thing unpredictable about an infant is which fluid is going to come out of him, and from where. Toddlers can do a lot more, but retain only a fraction more understanding of why they are doing it, or what might happen.
Currently, my two year old’s favorite pastime is suddenly, without warning, dive-bombing onto my chest, laughing maniacally while he does it. He also enjoys throwing the football towards me and then screaming like an air raid siren if I go near it. I don’t think he understands what “playing catch” actually means. Who am I kidding, I know he doesn’t understand what it means. He’s two.
It’s actually kind of cute to look back at the post below; I was so naive! Take a look; I have to go stop my son from chewing on the cat’s tail.
Original Post: Insane or Infant?