Fatherhood Adventures

Of all the sounds the
youngest one among us makes, I think a raspberry might be my personal favorite.
Under pretty much any circumstance, a well-executed raspberry from my
9-month-old, Carson, tickles my funny bone.
It particularly gets me when a timely raspberry from Carson finishes off a
sentence in a particularly intriguing fashion.

The other night he
followed my comment “okay buddy, up we go, time for a bath” with a long and wet
raspberry in my ear. In my mind, and I could be completely off base, of course,
that meant something along the lines of, “I don’t care what you do, I’m just
doing my thing, no matter where you take me or what you do to me.”

There’s no way to know
exactly what they means but raspberries are all good in my book and the more
the merrier. With Carson, it seems to me once he starts he can’t stop.

While driving out for a
family dinner the other night, the sounds emanating from the backseat were
classic. It was one of those times when you can’t help but laugh.

There was Beckett,
pointing out everything he sees outside and the colors of all the objects, from
the trees, buildings and cars to my hat, the clouds and the stop sign. He gets
particularly excited when he sees a tractor or a big truck. That’s when he starts
kicking his legs into the back of my seat.

All the while, Carson is
blowing a steady stream of raspberries, timed just so to finish Beckett’s
sentences, or at least his version of them.

It’s a definite you have
to be there moment, but here’s a little transcription from memory from that
short ride.

Beckett: Green car, big
tractor …

Carson: Raspberry …

Beckett: Daddy’s hat off
… daddy’s glasses off …

Carson: Raspberry …

Beckett: Beckett hungry

Carson: Raspberry …

Beckett: Car-Car hungry

Carson: Raspberry …

Beckett: Big, white
cloud, yeah …

Carson: Raspberry with a
hint of a laugh

Beckett: Car-Car laughs

Carson: Giggles mixed in
with a raspberry or three

Such is life with our
little boys. Indeed, they are hilarious times.

Reading is a huge part
of my life, based on my career choice.

However, aside from the
daily responsibilities of being a newspaper editor, it’s difficult to find time
for leisure reading. When there is time to crack open a book I’ve been trying
to read for months or the latest copy of my favorite magazine “The Week”, I am
typically asleep within 10 minutes.

These days, my reading
consists of children’s books and that’s essentially it.

Before every nap and
nighttime, I, or Pam, read a handful of books with Beckett. It’s fun for him
and us. It’s to the point now I think I have them all memorized, as verses from
Eric Carle’s “The Very Busy Spider” and Keith Baker’s “I See You Little Green”
dance through my head at the strangest times. Another favorite of mine is
Sandra Boynton’s “But Not The Hippopotamus.”

The other afternoon I
was feeling particularly refreshed and told myself I was going to read
something, anything, by the pool while the kids were asleep. Well, long story
made somewhat interesting, I was napping within 20 minutes.

That’s what happens when
a little bit of peace and quiet persists long enough.

I am beginning to think 2-year-olds have multiple personalities.

It’s wrong to generalize
here, but I’m thinking other parents out there understand what I’m talk about.

Beckett has at least
three different sides to him. He can be incredibly sweet at one moment, while
unbelievably difficult at other times. Count everything in between these
extremes, and there we have three unique sides to my oldest son.

Overall, he’s a great
kid (no surprise to hear from his dad), but that’s not to say there are not
frustrations along the way.

It’s exasperating to
watch him walk up to his little brother and kiss him on the cheek and 30
seconds later walk back up to him and stick a pacifier in his ear in a devilish
and rough fashion.

It’s equally maddening
to have him ask for a particular DVD, say the Jack Black episode of Yo Gabba
Gabba, and then minutes later begin incessantly requesting (demanding) a Barney
video.

I have an incredibly
short threshold of patience with that nonsense, and this is partially a result
of the fact I have to stave him off with one hand all the while trying to get
the DVD in the player and keeping his pesky little hands out of the way.

A recent development
that is driving Pam a bit loony is an odd fascination with the word, “no”. It’s
all we hear when we ask him something these days. The bizarre part is he says
it in a mocking tone that makes me question whether he’s intentionally trying
to rattle us.

Ask him if he wants an
ice pop after playing outside, he will reply, in a whiny tone, “noooo,” while
hunching his shoulders and turning his head in a coy fashion. When we do not
give him a pop, because he said he didn’t want one, he throws a monster tantrum.
When we ask him what’s bothering him, he says he wants a pop and acts like he’s
being neglected.

That’s
pull-your-hair-out stuff right there.

 

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