peas, please

Okay. This installation is going to be a gushy one, so if there are any jealous parents out there who will find it hard to read about why my son is the coolest little bag of fun that the planet earth has ever had the pleasure to coexist with, then maybe you should just skip on over to whatever other website you were planning to visit today. I need to write this, you see, not because I’m trying to compare my kid to yours, or because I actually think that my situation is unique (I would entertain any argument for why your kid is the coolest kid in the world, so long as it is submitted in writing within 30 days), but because I feel the need to remind my future self - who is currently praying that his 7-year old Benjamin would just sit the hell down and shut up already – exactly how great things can be when your kid is only 19 [months]. Because they are. Great. I mean. . . so far.

Benjamin is learning a lot. About everything. The other day he learned how to transform his crib from a comfy little prison cell into a platform for base-jumping. Yup - he's figured out how to climb out of his crib. The day has finally come when there are no longer any boundaries we can erect that our baby boy can’t climb over, crawl under, or leap in a single bound. Heck, we took down all the baby-gates in our house several months ago, since Ben (whose middle name is Momentum) could easily barrel through them as if they weren’t actually made of solid wood and steel.

But I have to admit: I actually encouraged his escape from the crib because it is really a milestone of sorts (like eating with utensils, or pointing out where his balls are), and I’m sick of my brothers saying things like “Oh, he hasn’t climbed out of his crib yet? My kid did that when she was three months old.” We lowered the mattress in his crib to the lowest setting before he was even one, and I figured that it would take him until he was 12 to actually climb out since the mattress is effectively six feet lower than the top of the railing. I couldn’t climb out of that crib if I was a pole-vaulter. But he did it.

And that’s not even the worst part - he also knows how to open his bedroom door. Ooooooh, shiver. Can you hear the sound of the creaking door? That’s the sound of lost freedom. Because he’s too young to understand that he must voluntarily stay in his room, even if he is wide awake at two-thirty (remember that time?), but he's too goddamned big to be forced to stay in his room.

And therein lies our problem. Due to Ben’s incredible size, he can do things that his brain just isn’t ready for yet. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that he is the size of a small 4-year old. Seriously. We took him to a Holiday Pageant at his daycare last weekend, and when they brought out the 4-5 year-old group, I was stumped looking for Ben in the crowd. “Where’s our guy?” I whispered to Anna next to me.

“Those are the four year olds, goof,” she said. Four year olds? You mean those aren’t the toddlers? Ben is twice their size!

After the older kids finished butchering all of my favorite Christmas songs, they wheeled out the toddlers, aged one to two. And then walked in Ben carrying three toddlers on his shoulders and one in his pocket. He was like a man among small ants. He was huge!

But he acts his age. In fact, he acts slightly older than his age - from what we can tell he is as mentally advanced as a 24 month-old. But the crowd doesn’t know that. They think he is a 4th-grader who has been held back for six years in the pre-pre-pre-school class. He cried when he caught a glimpse of his mother at the end of the performance (which consisted of the teachers singing Twinkle Little Star while the toddlers repeatedly fell off their stools), he couldn’t form full sentences, his diaper was soaked, and he had a stream of mucus hanging from his nose to his shirt. Mentally, he is still a toddler. He just so happens to be 24 inches taller than the little squirt falling off the stool next to him.

And by the way, he really likes peas. I not going to say much else about this strange fact, other than that I’m not entirely sure who passed on that particular gene, and I would like to see a record of where Anna went shopping between July and August of 2004.


Well, I haven’t gushed as much as I thought I was going to - I apologize for going on and on about his size (damn, he’s huge). So this is for you, future Ben: I love you. You are so much fun to be around. You have a certain personality. I think I can positively affirm that you are unlike anyone else I have ever met, and after 28 years of life, I think that is saying something special.

Now get out there and make some big-time money so you can buy me a house on the beach. And put down that school bus before you hurt someone!

even though I ain't got money

Sorry to be away for so long - it's this thing called life that keeps getting in the way. And this other thing called Benjamin.

To recompense, here are some fun images from the past 6 weeks:

This first one is a cute video from Thanksgiving where Benjamin kept my dad up past his bedtime singing songs and playing the guitar.

This is Ben's grandpa showing his grandson the biz. You can see from the look on Ben's face that he is having problems with the spatial relationship between the public volumes and the private, and the architect's use of materials on the east building facade remind him of that poopy diaper he made last week's after eating mommy's "surprise" chili.

While we're on the musical merry-go-round, these next few are from our visit with our dear old friend, Mary and her wonderful piano. Ben may not be prodigy material (yet), but he sure loves his "mu-nick". He won't go to sleep until we've either sung him a song, or watched some live music on TV (Hi-Definition Pearl Jam is the way to go, baby).






This is Ben's second hair-cut, courtesy of Uncle Dan and his rusty clippers. I was personally against his getting his hair cut, seeing as he barely has enough hair to do a toddler comb-over, but level heads did not prevail that Thanksgiving evening and Ben ended up with a military crew cut. Sir, yes sir.

This is Ben's hat.

This is Ben's ass.

Trains and computers. Fun for all.

"From here I can see the extent of my playground kingdom, and that cute toddler beeotch who better bring back my stolen shoe."

Ben and his best bud, Noah. Or as Ben calls him: No-nah.

Ben and The Mife. My peeps.

da-doo-doo

Original post: 11/15/06

Not much to say right now - Ben has been doing all the talking lately anyway. He seems to have discovered the back of his throat and all the fun little noises that you can make back there, and if I hear him say the word “no” one more time. . .

Actually, his use of the negative has, for the most part, been rather appropriate. Anna has willingly taught him how to use the word, don’t ask me why, but it still surprises me to hear him use it. For instance, if you ask, “Benjamin, do you want some more carrots?” you’ll hear, “ummmm, no.”

If you ask, “Benjamin, are you ready to take a bath?” He'll state very concisely, “no.”

His use of the word is very clear and you can sense the rationality in his inflection. He really knows what he is saying, unlike so many of the other times when he simply repeats what you've just said.

He is currently learning the alphabet, and once in a while he’ll actually surprise you and say the next letter before you even get to it. Of course sometimes his guesses are a little too premature. Like when you get to “C” and he says “da-doo-doo”.

“No Benjamnin, not yet. A – B – C. . .okay, now Deeee. . .”

“Da-doo-doo.”

“No, no, no. Deeeee. . . . Eeeeee. . .”

“Eck!”

“Nooo, not X. Eeeee. . . Efffffff. . .”

“Effffff”

“Yeah! Good job! Now Geeeee. . .”

“Geeeee. . .”

“H”

“aaych!”

“I”

“eyes!”

“J”

“da-doo-doo!”

“Okay, fine. Fine. W. . . X.”

“Eck!”

“Y”

“eyes”

“And Z!”

“Zeee! Dee-en! [The end] More! More!”


Editor’s Note: This was written several weeks ago, and since then, Ben has filled in quite a few of the holes in his alphabet. His favorite part is L-M-N-O-P, which of course is followed immediately by da-doo-doo, eck, and zeee.