Adventures Of Fatherhood – April 13, 2018

Adventures Of Fatherhood – April 13, 2018

While checking out of the grocery store the other day, Carson tried to pull a fast one on me.

As usual, we always go to the store at the most crowded time. I know better but that’s how life goes.

As Carson and I were waiting in the long line to check out, it was clear he needed to use the restroom. There were sounds coming from him confirming the point, but it was the odor that was more of the problem.

When a woman turned around to seemingly check out who was responsible, Carson immediately turned to me and pointed. He then slapped me in the gut and fanned his nose with his hand.

When I responded, “don’t you dare blame that on me, stinky,” he laughed as loud as I’ve ever heard him. He may be non-verbal but he has one of the best belly laughs I’ve ever heard.

The woman in front of us didn’t find it as funny as we did.

I didn’t even have to look to know who said it.

This happens often when it comes to Beckett. A group photo was being taken of his soccer team at a tournament a couple weeks ago. The poor tournament official was trying to get all the players to cooperate and look at the camera in an orderly fashion. That’s easier said than done with 10 excitable 9-year-old boys.

After the photo was taken, I heard above the mild roar a clear voice say, “Make sure you tag me on my Insta …”

That was Beckett, of course, shouting out to the cameraman, who simply gave a thumb’s up before heading on his way.

To be clear, he does not have an Instagram account or any other social media page. That should go without saying, but he has friends who are on social media. I know that sounds ridiculous but it’s true.

While that was a funny moment, there’s often a fine line with Beckett as far as his words. He’s always been an impulsive kid and struggles mightily with thinking before he speaks. It’s an ongoing thing in our household.

While Pam and I were talking about a recent situation where his words got him in trouble, we had to laugh about the time he was a little over a year old when I wrote about my concerns with him not talking yet. Pam was the one who remembered the column. I don’t have any memory of worrying about Beckett being a slow talker. I’m sure it’s because those concerns over the last eight years have always been directed at Carson because of his ongoing speech concerns.

Since the memory, or lack thereof, is a funny thing, it’s fun to look back on these columns from years ago because I often forget about these instances. These concerns seem so foreign to me at this point that I thought I would share what I wrote back in July of 2009. There’s no mention of Carson because he didn’t come along until four months later.

Every kid is different, and I think that’s incredibly cool.

In my son’s case, he’s not much of a talker as far as words go. He will make plenty of noises and utter syllables, but he does not make much sense yet. He will point to a dog or door and say something along the lines of “do do”. He also surely knows how to say “no” and “ball” and will point at a banana across the room and say “nana.” He has also been known to bark at the dogs (which I find incredibly cute).

Of course, he’s only 14 months old and I would probably freak out if he started talking in sentences right now. The more I think about it the more I realize perhaps it’s a blessing he is not yapping it up yet. His squeals, moan, screams, giggles and the like fill the house with enough sounds as it is these days.

My wife read somewhere a while ago that kids focus on one thing at a time. I can see where that’s true. In Beckett’s case, walking and running took precedent over talking. The physical stuff seems to be the priority, and everyday there’s something new on that front.

All of a sudden one day, he started blowing kisses with his hand. The next day he was waving. The next he was stacking rings and then giving himself a round of applause. The next week he was stacking blocks. The next he was pushing the off button on the Comcast cable box (in reality, he picked that up on his own). The next he was opening and closing doors. The next he was climbing steps.

Nowadays, he’s running, all over the place. Whether it’s an illusion, I do not know, but it always seems like he is heading downhill out of control. Fortunately, after what seemed like an incredible amount of face plants into furniture, he has learned to run with his hands up to brace for impact. After all, his thinking seems to be what would be fun about avoiding contact with an inanimate object.

About The Author: Steven Green

Alternative Text

The writer has been with The Dispatch in various capacities since 1995, including serving as editor and publisher since 2004. His previous titles were managing editor, staff writer, sports editor, sales account manager and copy editor. Growing up in Salisbury before moving to Berlin, Green graduated from Worcester Preparatory School in 1993 and graduated from Loyola University Baltimore in 1997 with degrees in Communications (journalism concentration) and Political Science.