the shopping-cart

So I continue to obsess. . .

The three of us drove to our local Target to buy a bunch of things we don’t really need and for a time I was left pushing Benjamin around in the front seat of a shopping-cart while our leader went off looking (and looking . . . and looking) at clothes (and clothes . . . and clothes). We raced around the place stopping only intermittently to check out a toy or a swimsuit issue, once in a while checking-in with Anna just to see how tall the pile of new shirts in her arms was getting. And the whole time, our little showboat flopped around in his seat, twisting and turning to greet each person we raced past with his grin and wagging tongue.

I know, I know - I’ve been obsessing lately about the comedic qualities of our wee Robin Williams, and I hope it doesn’t come off as bragging or one-upping anyone else’s baby out there. It just so happens that while your 11-month old might be walking early or composing her second symphony, Ben’s prodigy appears to be simply, entertainment. I don’t know if this’ll get him into Yale, but it might get him on TV. And c’mon – would you rather see your child win the Nobel or American Idol?

Of course I’m kidding. But seriously, I don’t think I’ll be alive to see Ben accept his Nobel, as he’ll probably be 75 himself. At least I can guarantee, unfortunately, that American Idol will still be showcasing its drivel 20 years from now.

Where was I. . . ah, yes: The shopping-cart. It was like a procession carrying the Queen down a street lined with adoring fans. Each person we rolled past took their customary look at the little baby in the shopping cart (to judge his cuteness, I’m sure, and to silently imitate the brutal honesty of Idol’s Simon Cowell : “Oh you poor baby, I don’t know why you’re even trying - you’re mug is bloody wretched!” ) and was instead surprised to find that the baby had already sought their gaze and was prepared with his biggest, gaping grin and an alternating barrage of “da da da da da”, raspberries and tongue-wagging. More than a few (in fact, most) spectators forgot what they were immediately shopping for and echoed Ben with their own “da da da’s” and invariably enough laughter to spark Ben into a constant stream of giggling and baby-talk that continued even if it meant he had to hang out the side of the shopping cart to keep his conversation going as we strode on down the aisle. Every person he passed was just a new audience to impress. And there is no exaggeration when I say that Ben put a smile on EVERY face that we passed. More than a few people stopped to strike up a conversation, and even more sought Ben out as we rolled around the store for the second, third and fourth circuit (Why does it take women so long to buy clothes?).

God, we just had so much fun! I never thought that having a kid could be this much fun so soon. Maybe the time has just flown by (Ben is almost finished with his first year), but I always envisioned the fun beginning when your kid got to be about 4 or 5. You know, when he’s capable of catching a football. Or telling a joke. Or catching bugs. Or driving real fast in the car. Or going to a baseball game. I would have never ever imagined that things could get so fun so fast. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times in the past 11 months that were fun or made me smile, but this, this constant laughter and giggling and making faces and entertaining strangers at the supermarket, this is FUN! This goes way beyond simply enjoying a moment at the store when some stranger comes up to us and says “oh isn’t he cute” or “how nice”. This goes beyond being satisfied at the end of the day because our time was spent devoid of much crying and anything going particularly wrong. This. . .THIS is anxiously awaiting 6:30 am when it all gets to start over again. THIS is spending every moment of our time together trying to make each other chuckle. THIS is thrice sneaking into my sleeping son’s room with my wife just to get our nightly fix of warm-fuzzies.

THIS is not what I expected. THIS is better.