Posts from February 2012. Show all blog posts.
Some consider me to be an original thinker—I think outside the box. I am not constrained by convention or protocols. This has never prevented me from achieving my goals. Besides inheriting my 60-something hairline, Baxter has inherited my ‘path-less-travelled’ gene.
He turns nine months as I write this post, and I’ve attributed his lack of physical motivation to several anecdotal observations. First up, he’s huge. That’s a big one. Granted, he can push back onto his knees, but it’s like watching the final stages of a spinning top wind down. He teeters, sways, stumbles and collapses. This is often followed by full-bodied expression of hopelessness—while on his belly, he lifts his arms and legs like a parachutist in free-fall. Perhaps this is my protester gene in action. Perhaps he’s been reading some physics and believes in equal and opposite reactions (that ain’t my genes).
Next up, where is there to go? Everything is brought to Master Baxter, so moving risks things will be brought to where he was, instead of where he is. This is potentially brilliant thinking (Amy’s genes).
Finally, Baxter has been fenced in, confined by cribs, jumpers, saucers, sofas, and small mats, all restricting the surrounding geography so that any major movement risks a minor head injury. But, by simply spinning a sofa, removing a buffet and laying down a soft shag rug over two pads, a veritable endless field has been born in our living space. Eureka!
What we have now is free-range Baxter. After some quick math, considering his disability (did I mention he’s an ample child?), calculating his inertia, and accounting for lack of experience, Baxter chooses the unconventional, outside-the-box transportation technique known as the barrel roll. He quickly discovers the guitar needn’t come to him; he can come to the guitar—that, and the rusty antique scale doesn’t taste as good as it looks. (And his parents discovered the shiny, bright, cabinet filled with glass, surrounded by glass may need some baby-proofing, stat!)
And as a bonus, Baxter can roll into the dining area and consume all the treats he’s kept on the floor for safekeeping.
My brother-in-law, Aaron, recently joined me for a walk about town with Baxter. We soaked in the sites and were anxiously seeking refuge in one of Leslieville/South Riverdale’s restaurants for a food break.
As usual, the regular haunts were crammed. The next-best option had all the booths taken, leaving an extremely high bar table—which is fine if you don’t mind feeding Baxter down in his stroller (like tossing treats into the sunken monkey cage at the zoo). Finally, we came across Table 17, which was taking orders for the next nine minutes—that worked for us. No need to dally. We settled in, ordered and I plunked Bax on my lap for the balance of our visit.
It was grand to talk of the days when the boyz can go to a hockey game, or toboggan, or toss a ball around. This day foreshadowed countless times when we three shall be together, bonding as only men can. It added a little perspective to our simple day. We were also celebrating my final pre-registration exam, which added REALTOR to my list of skills, so spirits were high.
And Baxter was the icing on the cake. He never fussed, and never complained. In fact, he was a beacon of true joy to our only neighbouring table of ladies. They reveled as Baxter imbued a sing-song melody to the meal. Of course, this musical delight would be short-lived if not for my vibrato. Baxter will hold any note (as long as there is breath in his lungs) if you will shake, vibrate or otherwise oscillate his meaty bod. So, on my knee he would perch, singing a random tune as I added the appropriate amount of knee-judder.
As if this wasn’t wonderful enough, I’ve taken to placing my finger horizontally across his mouth and wagging it across his lips (classic move). This is non-stop aural bliss and makes anyone within listening distance smile and laugh. Good times.
(And thanks for lunch, Aaron!)
Comments
Baxter must be the angel to his dad. Wow..I remembered the same feeling when my son was as little as Baxter.