Friday, 3 June 2011
We drive on parkways, yet we park on driveways. This seems like an easier conundrum to solve than that of a 2yr olds mind.
I have a son who is in his 2nd year of life and acts like it to a tee. I know, they all go through the terrible two's right? They do, but I think mine seems to be taking it to the extreme. He's not talking yet, really. I don't compare him with other kids, but if you were to compare him to other kids, he would seem a little behind. He says "daddy", "mo". (That's what he calls mommy) Other words include, "hi", "bye", "take", and as of late "shit". That last one may be my fault. We are wanting to get him started on potty training, but it's impossible when he can't tell us when he's gotta go, or even care when he's got a Buick in his pants. My son could happily sit in a diaper that has 2lbs of piss and a few Lincoln logs in it, and not so much as wince. So, between his love for soiled pants, and a communication breakdown, it's an impossible feat.
I know, I know, he'll be talking and sitting on the throne in no time. I hear this from lots of parents. All of whom have kids doing this already. I take the lad to a toddler hang out place every Tuesday and sometimes Monday morning. Kind of a father-son thing I do. We've been going for over a year now, and I've gotten to know a lot of parents there, and their kids. My son is very needy. I mean, real separation issues. I can't even go take a piss without him losing his shit. So, one day, I have to use the can at toddler-time (something I avoid doing like the plague). I tell the facilitator that I'm doing this, and that the little one might throw a fit. She says, "Well, have you tried telling him that you're going?" She's a great lady, but had no idea that my son's understanding of time and space is a little different than most. So off I go. No sooner that I close the door to the bathroom do I hear,
Yup, he noticed I left.
It was last summer when his mother and I were addressing our concerns for his lack of speech, when I said "He'll be yakking up a storm by the end of summer, you watch. Didn't happen. So I go back to what I was saying earlier about not comparing my kid to other kids. I used to do that a lot. I didn't want to, I just kinda did. I have since matured as a father, and no longer do that. I think the point of this post, is just to express my frustration with his lack of speech, and our progress in parenting because of it. Something as simple as asking him if he needs to go poop, and him responding with a nod or "uh-huh" would be amazing. Our time will come. I take comfort in the fact that he spends a lot of time thinking. I can see it in his eyes when he's playing in his room, or sitting on the couch, and outside playing. He has this pensive look to him. I heard that this kind of behavior at his age usually means they will become very intelligent later in life.
That doesn't mean that he's always like that. He throws tantrums that remind me of Animal from the muppets going ape shit. I've often referred to his autistic-like spasms like a "Chimpanzee on cocaine". He likes to hit, claw, scratch, throw shit. He threw a wooden block in my face just the other day. Today at the park, some granny was there with her grandkids, and she just had to bring this big ass ball with her. My son, or course being 2, thinks everything is his. He went right over to it and picked it up. Happiest kid at the park. After 10 or so minutes playing with, the kid that it belonged to wanted it back. So, his grandma came over to get it. She told me that they were leaving the park, and needed it back. I knew this was going to end badly. So, pointlessly asking my son to give it back, he shockingly didn't give it back. She expressed again that they were leaving, and needed it. So, I did the horrible thing of taking it out of my sons hands and handed it to her. (Enter sound effect of epic explosion here) He screamed and dropped to the ground. Consoling him was no good, because he wanted me dead, so I let him lay down on the wood chip playground floor. Wood chips covered his tear soaked face, in his mouth, dirt on his clothes, and still not wanting dear 'ol dad. Guess where the blame finger was pointed? At this stupid old bitch who brought a ball to the park. Who the fuck does she thinks
is bringing fancy bouncy balls to the park? Doesn't she know what a shit storm she was going to create? I calmed down and let it go. It wasn't her fault, my son needs to learn to share. He finally calms down, and I convince him to go down the slide a few times. To my surprise, guess who hasn't left the park like she said she was? Lying fucking twat and her shitty ass grand kids. Not only did they NOT leave the park, they were playing with that ball, right in front of my son. The look on his face was devastating. I have never wanted to pull out a knife and stab a ball as much as I did at that moment. I didn't have a knife though. They'll get what's coming to them.
Chicken pox and diarrhea.