Fatherly Advice

Recently, Sam seemed restless and though it was only, approximately, one month since Christmas (Sam's birthday is the day after Christmas so he was inundated with new toys), we took him to Target to buy a few new toys (I know...I know...we're easy...okay maybe not "we're easy"...maybe "dad's easy"). In actuality, this trip was as much for Elise and I as it was for Sam.

When playing in Sam's room, Elise and I--the creatively-minded people that we are--are naturally drawn to the Legos. But there just wasn't enough Legos to make anything good. We needed more Legos to build true masterpieces, and, somehow, everything became the "Rainbow _______ (fill in the blank) this and the Rainbow ________ (fill in the blank) that", i.e. the Rainbow Tower, the Rainbow Pyramid, the Rainbow Barcalounger, etc. The word "rainbow" merely reflected the assorted colors used to construct said architectural masterpiece and not the sexual orientation of said structure, though it was somehow implied that it was a gay-friendly Transformer we had just built. So, we bought a ton of new Legos at Target, more for mom and dad than for Sam, but he got some cool new toys, too.

Like this electronic animal puzzle that makes the sound of the animal when you put the puzzle piece back in its proper spot, i.e the dog barks, the parakeet tweets (in this very cold electronic song that sound more like techno music than a bird) and the cat meows. The only problem with this puzzle is that the sensors in the puzzle pieces are extremely, extremely, extremely sensitive.

God forbid, if we ever had an earthquake in Florida, because this things would meow, woof, bray and moo nonstop. As it is, all one has to do is walk into the room where said puzzle is housed and the mice squeak or the guinea pigs make whatever that weird electronic noise is that this puzzle purports guineas pig make. It is especially disconcerting in the middle of the night should we have to come downstairs for anything!

Sam and I were upstairs playing with our new Legos. I was making the Rainbow Bridge Over Troubled Water and as quickly as I could put it together, Sam was taking it apart. My son has a penchant for taking things apart. That's the nice way of saying it. Most times, he is just shy of the Tasmanian Devil in his proclivity toward chaos.

But am I worried?

Nah. I would have to confirm with my mom, but, as I recall, my brother Carlie, was also very good at taking things apart as a boy. In fact, I distinctly remember the thousands of tiny pieces that made up the inside of some sort of complicated piece of electronic equipment spread on a towel. I don't think he ever put the thing back together, but now he is a project manager at Intel and I don't think the hired him because he is really, really good at taking apart computer chips.

This past weekend, Sam pseudo-mastered the art of standing unaided. As we both suspected, he can totally do it, the trick is distracting him enough so that he stands for long periods of time before he realizes that he has been standing for a long period of time. So, as my Rainbow Bridge Over Troubled Water was being torn apart before my eyes, I encouraged Sam to practice his "standin' up". (what, to me, is even more amazing than Sam standing unaided is the fact that he, after but one day, knew exactly what I was talking about when I told him to show me "standin' up".)

He grasped onto his Fisher Price parking garage and tentatively hoisted himself to his feet. Immediately, I could tell that this attempt at "standin' up" was going to be less than successful. His feet were crossed. As I predicted, he immediately tumbled, but I was quick to console him. "That's okay, Punka, " I told him. "Things don't always work out the way we plan."

Holy *&%$! Did that really come out of my mouth! It sounded so....so....fatherly. I astounded myself with my unsuspecting nugget of paternal wisdom. No doubt Sam was equally flabbergasted. He is more used to his father singing goofy songs or jabbering jibberish than offering up life lessons. Maybe...just maybe...I'm cut out for this fathering thing after all!