I was watching arena football recently with The Boy. The first play we saw was a long touchdown pass. The Boy lifted his arms in the air, briefly to signal a touchdown. Then he applauded. I couldn’t be more proud a dad. When the NFL season started I was pretty excited because The Boy was demonstrably adept at playing pat-a-cake. Importantly, he could do the roll it in and roll it out arm movements. This was grand as the arm movements bear a striking similarity to Daunte Culpepper “getting his roll on.†I was hoping it wouldn’t take too long for The Boy to learn to roll his arms with Daunte after a touchdown pass. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Any of you familiar with Culpepper’s season know that The Boy would have little practice to draw upon as Culpepper, unfortunately, spent more time chasing the guys who intercepted his passes than he did celebrating touchdowns. So the boy didn’t learn that football gesture. And he’s stopped doing the gestures for pat-a-cake.
Once he learns the basic elements of something, The Boy doesn’t continue on. “Roll my arms? Been there, done that.†He doesn’t dawdle or perfect anything. He tries everything and moves on. He’s not a man of contemplation; he’s a man of action. Scratch that. He’s too young for that. He’s a Toddler of Action.
Certainly, there are some things at which he tries to improve. Walking/running, for certain. Let’s not forget yelling. He now uses a two-syllable word: bubbles. We don’t play with bubbles a lot, so we’re not sure where he learned it. Best guesses: either they play with bubbles a lot at day care or he’s a Michael Jackson fan. (I’m told that that joke dates me.)
The Toddler of Action enjoys exploring and getting away. After church, I turned the corner to go to the day care rooms and who had escaped and was running through the halls? Our Toddler of Action, that’s who. My guess is that, had he been able to speak in sentences, his first words to the sitters would have been “Ha! No prison can hold me!†He does this a lot at other places, too. He’s a Toddler of Action.
I know that there are dangers lurking outside the confines in which we place him. But I also hate to disturb his curiosity. There are discoveries to be made every where and holding him back only holds him back.
You may be saying, “that’s a great plan until you get to a busy intersection.†How wrong you are. He’s safe until, at least, he learns to walk and wave bye-bye at the same time. We were at a strip mall one time and he could see an intersection a little ways in the distance. There was no way he could see the people in the car, and they couldn’t see him well, but he waved bye to each and every one of those vehicles.
He gets cabin fever. I think. When we’re at home, he’ll often wave bye-bye to me. I take it to mean that he’s a Toddler of Action and needs to be on the move; not stuck at home. (The other option is that he wants ME to leave. Nah, that couldn’t be it.) He hates the car seat, but what Toddler of Action wouldn’t? That’s like telling a young lad to wear a hat when he goes to play football with the other young lads. You can’t be a tough football player in a stocking cap and you can’t be a Toddler of Action while strapped to a car seat.
You still don’t believe that he’s a Toddler of Action? Well, even watching the weather forecast has become an action event. He loves to dance. When he hears music he’s dancing. He likes to share that activity with us. Those of you familiar with the Weather Channel may know that they have a segment called “Local on the 8s.†At the 8s (10:08, 10:18, 10:28, etc), they have a two minute local forecast. They show the current weather, today’s forecast, the extended forecast, radar, and a few other things. Most of it is graphics and unspoken, so they put music behind it. Well, The Boy hears the music and signals for us to dance with him. To the Weather Channel. So, if you ever go by our house and see us ballroom dancing, you’ll know we’re watching the local forecast (or the opening theme of M*A*S*H). THAT, my friends, is a Toddler of Action.
Oh, but he knows (sometimes) when waiting is important. Like when he’s in the bathtub and a cat walks into the bathroom. As a rule, cats HATE Toddlers of Action. Theoretically, that is because a Toddler of Action’s response to a cat is running at the cat with hands out and screaming. However, when The Boy is in the tub, he can’t very well chase the cat, so he watches . . . quietly, even. This is very strange from the cat’s eye level. Just above the side of the tub, you see two eyes, a forehead, and some Flock-of-Seagulls style hair. If it weren’t for the hair bit, you’d be looking for a bandage and waiting for the Buckeye Newshawk award-winning hog report. (THAT reference doesn’t date me; it’s just bad.)
A Toddler of Action has no time for eating, yet must eat to remain active. A difficult problem, but The Boy has a solution. First, stuff your mouth so full of food you can barely breathe. Then, fill both hands full of food. Finally, and this is what sets a Toddler of Action apart from regular toddlers, demand more food. No where to put it? No problem, The Parent of Nothing Better To Do can just follow the Toddler of Action around with food for when he need more. Or the parent can just strap him into the highchair and let him finish what he has. Yeah, that’s actually better.
So the Toddler has been actioning all day and now needs to sleep. That’s okay, he’s needs to build up some energy to action all day tomorrow. A whopping 14 hours of action. 14 hours of action is a lot, so you may want to recheck my math.
But that’s my action figure.
© 2006, Mark Wentz