Birthdays, Bouncing, and Books
 As
of last Saturday, Theron is now two years old. He
doesn't look like a baby, or even a toddler, any more.
He looks like a little boy.*
...I'm not quite sure when that happened.
His latest bit of development is that he now tries to
sing along with songs. This is very exciting for him.
It's also insanely cute to watch. It might
not be the Cutest Thing Ever, but it's not off by
much.
Also, it vastly increases the likelihood that his first
complete sentence will be, "That's Elmo's World!"
Small boys and Renfaires
A couple of weeks ago, we took Theron back to the local
renfest. Last time he was there (a year or so earlier),
he was still in his stroller; he was either not walking
yet, or he was barely walking. I really don't remember.
This year we brought the stroller again, but Theron got
to do a lot more running around. For a baby, a renfaire
is basically just another case of sunburn. For a small
boy, it offers a lot more possibilities. We didn't try
to dress him up; in fact, we were a bit of an odd
couple, since I went in costume while Theron and the
Beautiful Woman both dressed 'normally'.
So Theron got a chance to ride on an elephant, a chance
to ride on a camel, and the opportunity to jump
waaaaaaay up in the air. He found all of this completely
thrilling, and came away from each experience demanding
more. ("Mo ef-fant! Mo Bounce!") He particularly loved
the elephant; we went back to that several times.
And, of course, I had the camera. Personally, I think
the results (at the bottom of the page) fall under the
general category of Really Cute Things; but they may
also be the evidence that CPS uses to put me away for
good.
Birthday parties
 Theron
is only two, so we didn't go overboard this year. (Once
he enters school, he'll probably want bigger parties
with lots of friends; I figure we can save our energy.)
So we basically just kept it in the family.
He had a birthday party last year, but I don't think he
even remembers it. This year, his mother primed him with
the
Elmo's World: Birthdays video. This was supposed to
help him understand what his party was about. I'm not
sure how well that worked, but he had a good time
anyway.
(I should point out that this is only half of his
birthday celebration; one set of grandparents was
unavoidably out of town, so we'll be doing something
with them as soon the schedule allows.)
So, yes. Family, cake, ice cream, presents, swimming,
playing in the sandbox, and a popsicle: these are the
things that make a small boy happy.
The things you forget to mention
Day to day life is moving along pretty well right now.
We're still a little tired, but nobody's actually sick.
Theron is sleeping through the night (usually), and his
bedtime routine has stabilized again. It still involves
a certain amount of pooping in the bathtub, but hey --
you can't have everything.
I mention this because it just occurred to me that I
only ever talk about Theron's health when he's sick. It
would be very easy for the casual reader to get the
impression (mostly correct) that having a child is
nothing but lost sleep and frequent illnesses. So, for
the record, at the time I'm writing this, Theron is
actually healthy and sleeping regularly. And it only
took us two years to get there.
See? Parenting's not that hard.
The difficulties of critical reading
As most of you already know, I majored in English.
(Explains a lot, doesn't it?) I read a lot --
compulsively, in fact -- and I have this horrible,
irritating habit of actually thinking about the things I
read. This gets me into all sorts of trouble -- which
leads to my next observation.
Children's entertainment and literary criticism do
not mix well.
Take, for example, the classic story
Guess How Much I Love You. This is basically the
story of a young rabbit (Little Nut-Brown Hare) who
wants to tell his father (Big Nut-Brown Hare) that he
loves him more than anything. So he starts doing things
to demonstrate: "I love you as high as I can hop." "I
love you all the way down the lane to the river."
Unfortunately, Big Nut-Brown Hare responds to each
attempt by outdoing it: "Really? Well I love you as high as
I can hop." "I love you all way across the river
and over the hills." I'm sure this is meant to be
reassuring to small children. After all, it's good to
know that your parents love you more than anything. But
it comes across as weirdly competitive and slightly
hostile. I keep expecting Little Nut-Brown Hair to say,
"Christ, Dad. Can't you just say, 'Thanks, I love you
too.'?"
How about another example?
Goodnight My Duckling. This one features a cute
little duckling who keeps getting distracted while
following Mama Duck back to the nest. Eventually, of
course, he gets completely lost. The turtle finds him,
and takes him home, and everyone settles in for the
night. Pretty harmless, right? It looks that way, until
you realize that the turtle appears on every
single page. He is, obviously, stalking the
duckling. So now I can barely read the page where he
asks, "Are you lost, little duckling?" without adding,
"Would you like some caaandy?"
...And children's television is just as bad (and
sometimes worse). Quick example:
Elmo's World: Mail. The segment features a little
animated piece on the joys of being mail... as narrated
by a letter. So the letter explains (in stultifyingly
cheerful terms) about how yesterday Little Joey wrote a
letter to his grandmother. "Then came the moment that
every letter dreams of: Little Joey put a stamp on me."
In the mailbox, she meets other letters and packages
bound for different parts of the world, who explain how
the process works. They're gathered up by the mailman,
sorted, and flown to their destinations. Finally grandma
opens the mailbox -- she's so excited to get a letter
from Little Billy that she kisses the letter,
but let's leave the Freudian implications of that bit
alone -- and waddles into the house with it. The segment
ends with the letter sitting in a comfy chair, talking
about how being a letter is just great.
...Which is fine, but they obviously left off the
real end of the letter's journey. Grandma might
have been happy to see the letter, but she hasn't opened
the envelope yet. So I'm stuck picturing what happens
after the cameras leave. The interview's over; the
letter is still sitting in her chair, but now...
"Grandma? What are you doing with the knife, Grandma?
Grandma? NOOOOOOO!!!" {slice}
And those are just the obvious examples -- taken from
the good books. We have one book that was so annoying
that I took a black magic marker and rewrote the ending.
I think we need a new kind of children's books: the Life
By Hobbes** series, or somesuch. It would have titles
like Why Tiger Ate Mister Antelope, Nobody
Hugs A Porcupine, and There's An Alligator In My
Yard (And He Doesn't Want To Be Friends).
There are days when I wish I could turn off my brain and
just enjoy things.
Pictures:
Videos:
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I am the Cat's pillow now. |
A Natural Climber |
Growing up, redux. |
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Red Egg Chair
(b-day present) |
More Bounce! |
Singing along |
* A friend of ours says, "He's
finally grown into his head."
** In honor of the philosopher, not the stuffed tiger.
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