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!