The World’s Worst Ninja
Ninjas are stealthy and efficient assassins. None of those words accurately describe G. Now on the homestretch to his third birthday, our protagonist has not mastered the art of sneaking up on anything.
His movements generate as much noise as a hobbled elephant — you can hear him approach well before you can see him. He also runs with the elegance of Phoebe from Friends.
Even when carried up to our bedroom in the middle of night, he manages to wake up his mother with his "indoor voice." He must be The World's Worst Ninja.
The First Addiction
G's proficiency with the iPad borders on astounding. Still shy of 22 months, he can slide to unlock, swipe, launch apps, and interact with animated digital books. Most of G's iPad time revolves around interacting with the Thomas the Tank Engine book and of course, watching the Thomas the Tank Engine series on Netflix.
If you've never seen this series, consider yourself lucky. It's full of insecure steam and diesel engines out to prove their usefulness to a fat and bald Controller named Sir Topham Hatt. Despite its inanity, my little guy loves the show.
G's obsession with Thomas got to the point where he refused to sleep unless a Thomas episode was playing on the iPad beside him. When he awoke in the middle of night, he would demand to watch Thomas. His weapon of choice was hysterical crying. After two consecutive nights, I decided to end this silly game.
The first night was a battle of wills. No iPad, period. This was not a popular decision with G, who demanded to watch "Choo Choo." I eventually outlasted him, but I had to withstand multiple 30 minute tantrums. The last one consisted of me confining him to his bed while he declared to the world how cruel I was. He probably could have won this battle had he sustained his crying for another five minutes. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he gave way to sleep.
The second round took place just before 3 am. While I met his demand for milk, I continued to reject the iPad demand. He must have been exhausted, because this round barely lasted 10 minutes.
On to day 2 ...
He’s Just a Generalist
While dining at a local restaurant, G pointed to a photograph of an Asian man and proclaimed, "da-da." What a racist, I thought. He thinks all Asians look alike. After forgiving my toddler, it dawned upon me that he simply lacks the vocabulary to express a thought like "a slanty-eyed male bearing a passing resemblance to my father." That made me feel a little better about his future.
Armed with about 10 words, G needs to generalize about the world around him. All spheres and circles are balls. This includes the moon and light bulbs. Similarly, juice, milk, lakes, and ponds are all agua in his book. Finally, while trains are choo choos, any other land-based vehicle is a car. His generalization may actually be a sign of intelligence. I'm hoping that's the case.
First Blood
It took 19 months, but G managed to draw blood. While he's well experienced with internal bleeding (bruising), this is the first time he was able to share his blood with the rug, floors, and my clothing.
The trickle of blood emanating from his thumb paled in comparison to the amount of whining and complaining from our protagonist. You would have thought this was some gory scene from Braveheart.
A sheet of paper towels and some patience were all that were required to stop the bleeding. Yet G continued to whine despite my exhortations to "walk it off." Luckily, it was nap time, so he agreed to take a short break from sharing his plight.
When he awoke, his sense of injustice intensified. Now there was a band-aid on his thumb. How dare I? I thought little kids loved band-aids and the accompanying attention. I was wrong.
Flying With Your Infant
In the US, you can fly with an infant in your lap for free. This applies until the age of 2, when magically, your child becomes privileged enough to pay for his own seat. G and I have been on many flights together, including an international one. Here are the lessons I've learned so far:
- Bring your own milk. It's surprisingly difficult to find milk at the airport and most airlines don't have milk. The 3 oz liquid rule does not apply to your little tyke. Since my kid has not mastered the art of screaming and sucking on a bottle simultaneously, milk keeps him quiet and usually helps him fall asleep.
- Set really low expectations with passengers around you. On a number of flights, passengers have volunteered to switch to a middle seat a few rows away from us.
- Always bring your child's birth certificate or passport to avoid suspicious looks from ticketing agents as you swear your child is under 2.
- Arrange flights around nap time. I used to scoff at parents who scheduled their activities around nap times. Once you deal with a cranky kid around nap time, you learn quickly that you are no longer in control.
- The most mundane things are absolutely fascinating to a little one. The airline safety card, the air vent, seat belts, and the latch holding the tray provide a lot of amusement.
- If he is old enough to walk or run, it's rarely in the direction you want. Buy an inexpensive stroller for transporting your little one around in the airport. You can roll your kid up to the plane, collapse the stroller, and get on the plane. It will be ready for you when you depart.
- Enjoy the privilege of boarding before most other passengers. You can even smirk a bit as you cut in front of weary business travelers. There will always be room for your carry-on in the overhead bins.
- Finally, squeeze the poop out of your child before boarding the plane. Changing a poopie diaper in an airplane bathroom is about as unpleasant as you imagine.
Getting Away From It All
"G needs a vacation," declared my wife. What? Everyday is a vacation for him. He has no deadlines, no bills, no job, and no responsibilities. What does he need to get away from? Days full of individualized attention while he increases the entropy around him?
In fact, we'll continue to feed, clothe, and love him with just a minimal expectation of affection. Is there a better deal out there?
Rocky Relationship
We have a 14 year-old dog named Blanca who has outlived her two adopted sisters. Among the three, she was the gamma dog. She was forced out of dog beds, pushed aside when food was at hand, and generally bullied.
She is now the only dog in the home. To her dismay, her torture continues. Her nemesis is none other than our protagonist, a 24 pound bundle of destructive energy. The majority of his interactions are benign. G offers her dog biscuits, holds the leash on walks (I wouldn't go so far as to say he walks her, as it's unclear who is pulling whom), drops her food from his plate, and pets her gently. When we least expect it, though, Evil G comes out to play.
He has tried to tip her, stabbed her with a fork, pulled out her hair, covered her with pasta, and pushed her out of her dog bed. Luckily, Blanca is just too old to deal with G and usually leaves the room in search of quiet solitude. A meaner dog might assert her 20 lb weight advantage and teach the whippersnapper a hard lesson.
Above the Law
The laws of the land don't apply to G. Routinely, he flouts rules and regulations with penalties ranging from reprimand to jail sentences. Here are a few that he routinely mocks:
- No shirt. No Shoes. No Service.
- No outside food or beverages allowed.
- Don't grab women's breasts without permission.
- Use your indoor voice when inside.
- Don't run around naked in public.
At some point, society will hold him accountable. Until then, he will continue to strut around as if we are all here to serve him.
His Mortal Enemy
G has a long list of enemies that he attacks with extreme prejudice. This includes the floor with anything he can use as a club, doors with his Lightning McQueen car, and restful sleep with his pterodactyl calls. However, no enemy receives as much venom as my Apple bluetooth keyboard.
I don't know if he resents Steve Job's reality distortion field, the Bluetooth waves, or the fact that it's off-limits to him. He doesn't just try to render the keyboard inoperative. Nothing will satisfy him until it is pulverized – or better yet – vaporized.
For now, his inability to string the acts of moving a chair, climbing the chair, and then pulverizing the keyboard has kept it safe on my desk. It won't be long before he's able to achieve a glorious victory in his epic war against the keyboard.
Chewing Plays a Large Role in Digestion
With a non-potty trained toddler on my hands, I have learned first hand the important role that chewing plays in the digestive process. If your teeth and saliva fail to break down food into smaller pieces, the stomach and intestines won't be able to do their jobs. I've tried explaining this to G, but he remains a skeptic.
Today, his diaper offered further proof that blueberries and corn niblets need to be chewed. Swallowing them whole just provides them with a free ride through the system. Energy-wise, he might as well be eating celery.
