Storytelling

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My Son, the Sound Effects Guy

October 3, 2011 at 11:16 pm , by 

Ten months.

A couple of weeks ago I was holding Jack as I was getting myself some water from the fridge. The second I moved the glass from my mouth, I heard “Ahhh!”. Immediately I tried to figure out if I made the sound myself or simply thought it in my head.

I didn’t think about this again until the next day when I was standing across the kitchen holding Jack and he saw Jill take a sip of some water.

“Ahhh!”  We both looked at Jack. He didn’t have a sneaky look on his face; he wasn’t trying to be funny. But when Jill took another drink of water and Jack made the noise again, it was plain to see: Jack feels it’s his duty to make the “Ahhh!” sound anytime he sees a person appearing to take a sip of a refreshing drink.

Though this might be the exact goofy kind of thing I would try to teach Jack, I knew it had nothing to do with me. And I knew that my wife and I didn’t go around regularly making sound effects after taking a drink. So where did he learn this?

A few days later I asked around at KinderCare, where Jack stays while we are at work. His main instructor, Ty, knew right away what I was talking about and laughed as she explained Jack’s new trick to me. In an effort to teach one of the other little boys to drink from his sippy cup, she made the “Ahhh!” sound each time the boy took a sip from it.

Jack was taking it all in, observing that it must be normal in our culture to make sound effects for other people when they drink something.

Needless to say, Jack has not missed one opportunity to go “Ahhh!” I can take three sips of water and Jack will make the sound three times. Again, he’s not doing it to be funny or entertaining; he simply feels it’s his duty. He does it with a straight face.

It really is a cool trick. So it makes me think- if he can learn to do that just from innocent observation, what else can he learn when I’m not even trying to teach him?

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If My Son Were a Girl

October 2, 2011 at 10:49 pm , by 

Ten months.

From the time we found out we were going to have a baby, up until the moment we actually discovered out the gender of our child, we never questioned the fact that we were going to have a girl. It somehow simply made the most sense in our minds: We’re not into sports, we’re nearly vegetarians, and most importantly, we had had our perfect girl name picked out since before we were even married.

Then, to our hilarious amazement, we were told we were going to have a boy. We weren’t at all disappointed, just in complete shock. That huge element of surprise actually made the pregnancy that much more exciting.

Fast forward to over a year later, and now whenever a stranger sees our son in Whole Foods Market or our church, the most reoccurring phrase we hear once they take a quick look at him is, “He’s all boy!“.

This past weekend we were having dinner with some new friends, who have a daughter several months older than our son, Jack. As they were both standing up, holding onto the same toy, the girl’s mom asked us if Jack is big for his age.

My wife Jill responded, “Yeah, he’s kind of a giant: 90th percentile for height and 75th for weight.”

It’s one thing to have a boy when we were expecting a girl, but another to have the baby equivalent of a 6’4″ linebacker. Or at least Will Ferrell. I love ironic humor; it makes life so interesting.

Despite being a very creative person, it’s not easy for me to imagine having a daughter, instead of a son. Jack is all I know. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I love his deep baby voice, his grunts as I wrestle with him and chase him around on the carpet, and the way that he and I share “deep thinking time” as I carry him on walks while my wife is preparing dinner. I love him so much.

If my son were a girl, the toy basket would be full of pink toys that play girly songs. I would probably use the word “princess” a lot. And I would have a child that passes a lot less gas… I  (incorrectly?) assume.

So the day may come when my wife and I have a daughter and get to use our cool secret name for her. But as for now, we don’t have a little princess. Instead, we have an adventurous Gummy Bear named Jack who is somehow the perfect balance of masculine and adorable.

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The Legend of the Happily Married Man

September 30, 2011 at 10:01 pm , by 

Ten months.

I am the kind of person who will go to quirky extremes to accomplish a mission that I have set my heart upon. In the process, that may mean that I am seen as fanatic, arrogant, or simply removed from reality and relevance. This is because I believe that often in life, it’s the little things we take for granted that can ultimately throw everything off whack. So I pay very close attention to those seemingly insignificant details and live my life accordingly.

Therefore, I am not a husband who will ever be quoted as saying, “Well I can look at the menu, can’t I?” as a justification to “appreciate the beauty” of another woman. It’s one thing to acknowledge another woman is attractive when someone asks me, in general; but that’s not what I’m referring to.

I’m talking about being out at a public place, hanging out with other guys, and the conversation turns to the body of the 22 year old waitress.Or observing the way other male coworkers lose their focus every time the Jane Siegel of the office (a reference to the 2nd season of Mad Men) walks by. I simply refuse to contribute in those situations.I am a happily married man and that means something to me.

It means that I don’t need to try to answer any subconscious questions in regards to my ability to woo a woman other than my wife.It means I will respect the sanctity of my marriage and the integrity of my family; not letting my guard down, even on account of an innocent look or a thoughtless comment regarding another woman.

Why would I need to “look at the menu” when I’ve already got everything I want in my wife? Part of the positive re-branding of fatherhood involves a deliberate campaign to view every other woman simply as another woman- not an object of desire. A man I would aspire to be like is a man who respects his wife even when she’s not around. So that’s the kind of man I choose to be.

I wear a wedding ring. Therefore, that dominates the messages I send to other women. My conversations with them will accordingly be intertwined with mention of my wife and son; so that even if I didn’t have a wedding ring, the message would still be clear how much I value my marriage- and how not interested I am in looking at any other items on the menu.

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Learning to Eat Solid Foods with Cheerios

September 25, 2011 at 7:42 pm , by 

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Babies Don’t Come with Pause Buttons

September 21, 2011 at 8:06 pm , by 

Ten months.

Cliche phrases annoy me. Perhaps the one I despise the most is “patience is a virtue,” which is often assumed to originate from the Bible, though it is instead taken from a poem from the 5th century entitled “Psychomachia.”

The reason it probably urks me so badly is because the people who tend to say it the most are typically people who are… toopatient!

There’s a decent chance they are also the same ones prone to use other worn-out phrases on a daily basis, like, “I’m not gonna lie…” as to anticipate telling some candid revelation, which they don’t. Another one is “just sayin’,” as to excuse themselves after saying something that is passive aggressively rude.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m not a patient person. Sure, it’s probably something I should care about trying to improve. But really, I’m a parent. I have a 10 month old son. If anything is going to teach me patience, whatever that even means, then it’s going to be my dealings with him.

Yes, I know: I’ve got it easy. My kid is very laid back and loves to be around people. It’s easy for anyone to love him. I know I’m one lucky guy.

Still though, he doesn’t have a pause button. Sometimes, especially on a Sunday afternoon when I am aching for a good three hour nap, I wouldn’t mind a pause button.

I wouldn’t mind being able to carry on a meaningful conversation with my wife during dinner without him interrupting because he’s not being engaged enough as we eat and attempt to feed him in the process.

Instead, the only pausing he does is during the 11+ hours from around 7 PM to 6:30 AM each day. But by that time, most of our energy has been spent.

Thank God for my son. I love him so much. I adore him. Awesomest baby ever.

But I am not a patient guy. Just sayin’.