William's Girlfriends.

As I watch William he begins to interact with other children more and more. Although his limited vocabulary often halts the interaction or strains it, I get the feeling he more or less understands what is going on. Quite often he will even try and sit with other kids instead of his mom and me, even if they have no intention of playing with him. He did this on the hayride to a pumpkin patch, where he insisted on sitting with some older boys instead of sitting next to his mom. (Which terrified her because no one would hold him should the tractor suddenly stop and he go flying forward.)His interaction, I believe, is based on what he has seen on tv, of kids playing with kids, and on this own personal interest in people his size. These relations are, more and more, with older girls.

                  William has always had a fascination with older women. Even at one he was staring at women as they walked by, and never at guys. As he has gotten older he has proved himself to be a little Casanova. If there is a girl aged 5-10 in his immediate area he will gravitate to her and use his baby charms to convince her to play with him. A few perfect examples are from the Spotsylvania Town Center’s play place. At one time he saw a girl sitting behind a bridge. He went to her and stared. She barked at him to leave and he proceeded to sit down next to her. Throughout the rest of the time he followed her around the play area, usually just as she stood up, and he would sit down wherever she had just been.

                  Alright, that example does not exactly show how much of a ladies’ man William is. These examples do. At the same play place William flirted with two girls within minutes of each other. The first was sitting in the horse carriage, which William promptly climbed. No sooner had he sat next to her than her arm goes around his shoulder. When she had left he went down to the horse part that a girl was riding. She turned around and talked to him, picked him up, and he rode the horse sitting behind her, and then another girl came up and sat behind him. With me as a role model I doubt this phase will be very long, if he inherits any of my personality his chick magnet days will be pretty much over. 

Billy, Billy, quite contrary.

There is something dictatorial about being a parent. It goes against all I have learned and hold dear to say to William "It doesn't matter what you want, you need to do what I want you to do because I know better." In a sense I do no better. I know what is good for him to eat, I know what we need to get done in a day, I know that we are going to the park and that he will like it even though he fusses when I put him in his car seat. But where does "Scottie knows best" turn into "I just want you to make things easier on me"? For example: If William and I are at the library, and he wants to leave the kids room to wander the Library, but I want him to stay in the kids area, not only so he doesn't disturb the books and the patrons, but because it is easier for me to sit and watch him in the kids room than to follow him around the library. William is at the age where he is learning about his own ability to make decisions, the power of words, and that he can be contrary, although he is fast learning that this means having privileges taken away and not having attention paid to you when you fake cry.

I've been questioning where my authority comes from since the day I became a role model for William. I suppose for most parents this authority is a little more believed, being a biological parent means your child is physically yours and the law, evolution and society say you should do whatever you want in order to raise them. Of course I over exaggerate, but as a biological parent the social, federal, religious and natural instincts of knowing best are a little stronger than me, whose authority lies in that I love William and want whats best and that his mommy trusts me. My authority lies in just personal belief that I know what to do, when quite often I don't or I find what I've known is wrong.

Alright enough serious talk, ya'll came here for cute tales of William, not a college student's view on parenthood. Of course we will be talking today of William's contrary moments, for a post that starts with how contrary William is, followed by evidence that would support the contrary, would make me a bad story teller indeed. I will start with a tale that proves it slightly wrong though.

Last night, at dinner, we told William to eat the cheerios the restaurant had given him with his hands, and fully expected him to do so. Having hands full of crayons however, William devised a plan. In what was seven parts luck, three parts skill, he deftly used a crayon to pick up a cheerio and eat it in front of his mother and I. I will admit that in this situation I did not know best, because that was just plain awesome.

Now that that bit of awesome is out of the way, let us begin where all stories that I seem to write do, at the mall. My girlfriend had to work all day and William and I found ourselves in Fredericksburg with no place to go. Throughout the day we'd wander to the library, target, books a million, cheeburger cheeburger and a few other places. Our day, however, is not the story. The story is William and how his newfound love of the word no met with my authority and how I learned to get by it.

William despises shopping carts. For some reason the idea of sitting there and shopping is as abhorrent to him as rooting for the cowboys is seen as in DC. Now, the trouble comes in both the form of ease and better for him. In order to get to the playground faster I need to get the supplies for the day faster, and thus if he is in the cart he gets what he wants sooner. There is also ease. I cannot hold him, as he is heavy and pushing a cart while holding him would become tiring after a fason. I could not let him walk, as he is in his "pull everything off the walls" phase as well. So my choice was fairly well made, the cart is where he would sit. Despite my plans William locked his legs and refused to sit, cries of "uh uh" breaking the quiet store. I finally sat him down despite his screams and protests and then said "go, go, go, go, go!" And began to push the cart quickly and rode on it. His complaints stopped, as long as whenever he cried "go, go, go, go, go!" The cart moved at a speed he wished.

Perhaps one area that I could not fix was that of food. William's food pallet is changing daily and I cannot keep up with what he does and does not eat. Simple standbys such as fries and apples are no longer acceptable. This makes lunch time much more challenging. At cheeburger cheeburger, a new 50's style diner, I ordered a burger and got william milk, chicken strips and fries. William refused all of it, but eyed my burger and my onion rings until I simply decided to hand them over. I cannot wait until he can order for himself, or learns that he actually likes more than he will admit.

The final example I will use is one from our moments in the car, waiting for his mommy to get off work. I asked if I could read him his book. He said no. I gave him the book and asked him to read. He turned it around (Upside down) and began to read it to me as he had seen me read to him. This is when I realized that many of his no's are just him trying to figure things out on his own, and even though I need to show him some authority to influence his development, he needs to develop his own decisions by trial.

Sunday with William

William and I spent the day together on Sunday while my girlfriend made it through her first real day of her new job. I have talked about similar situations as this many a time, so I will stick with the highlights rather than an in depth look on the day as a whole.

Our day took us first to the mall, one of the few locations open at 9:40 on a Sunday morning. When we crossed the street, after stopping and looking both ways in an exaggerated manner so he learns at least to stop before going out even if he doesn't grasp why, we found our way to the mall entrance. I pointed straight ahead, at the handicap buttons that open the door. I've found the best way to get William to move in a certain direction is to give him something fun to do wherever I need him to go, and buttons fit the bill. A call of "Go get the button" followed my finger and he dashed for it, or waddled, dashing is not a skill he has quite mastered. Pushing all the buttons we found our way inside and William began to run again, cries of "Go, go, go, go, go!" echoing through the quiet mall. I caught up and we ran together, yelling "Go, go, go, go, go!" Every so often and laughing as we made out way through the mall.

We made our way to Books-A-Million, where I decided to choose my horse after Borders died. At borders there are giant steps inside for children to sit during story time, and they are one of William's favorite places to climb. Usually he and I find ourselves alone at the top, that is, I find myself alone at the top reading aloud a Dr. Seuss book as he explores each and every step. Sunday was different. A little girl was hiding stuffed animals under a blanket, the blanket itself unable to contain the pile any longer. Her mother came up to her and asked about the animals, sparking the reply of "What's he doing here!" from the girl, pointing at William in a means to move blame or something. Either way she falls under the category of snitch, which I have told my feelings towards earlier. Her mom simply said "Climbing, just like you." At this attention William's face lit up and he took a step towards the girl, invoking a surprised leap of fear backwards from the girl. It was as if William was a monster set on ruining her good time.

After the mall I took William to a McDonalds with a play place. I bought a sweet tea, but nothing more. My girlfriend and I don't give William McDonalds if we can help it, and on a day with so much time I was able to get him something much better beforehand. The sweet tea was merely so they'd allow us to stay and play. A birthday party was going on and I didn't want William to stay long, but if I had left with him then he would have whined about going in and out of the car, and I felt this unfair. I let him play and he did surprisingly well for the time we were there. As the kids began to play hide and seek William's curiosity peaked. He watched as a little girl counted to ten and ran after the other kids. In her absence William went to where she had been, squatted and began to count the best he could. It was perhaps the most adorable moment of the day.

Our day ended at Target, where we bought flowers and a snack for my girlfriend. As we began to walk towards the store William eyed a tow truck. I let him lead the way and we stopped next to it and watched it pull the car aboard. William stood dumfounded, having found a real life robot.

We were barely at the entrance when William eyed the giant red balls in front of Target. Having an obsession with anything round he went over (With cries of "Go, go, go, go, go") and attempted to roll them. I followed and tried to help him. By the end of it we had attempted to roll every immovable sphere in front of target.

William to English dictionary

A little change of pace this week, as the school workload has my drawing time down to a minimum. This week I'm going to do a simple William to English dictionary. As a one and a half year old he is learning words, and in many situations these singular words mean whole sentences or ideas. As he learns more words I will keep updating until his english is understandable to those who don't see him as often.

Mama- Mother! or Someone who I deem worthy to serve me! I request something that I do not have the words to articulate yet!

Dada- Scott is here! Joyous day!

Baba- I require liquid sustenance from my plastic drink container.

Ball- A spherical throwing object

Where's ball?- What is the location of my spherical throwing object? or I know exactly where my spherical throwing object is, but I wish for you to get it for me.

Uhahuh- I have no idea.

nonononononono- negative

uh- Positive

nyum nyum- I hunger

*hands up*- I would like to be carried.

*arm outstretched*- What I am saying is a query that I would like answered.

Rawr!- I see a certain species of animal with a large mouth and or large feet

Dawgie- I see a canine.

Keetie- I see a feline.

Choo Choo- A locomotive or another type of vehicle is visible to me.

edit: My girlfriend just reminded me of some more Williamisms

Doo- The pieces of cloth and leather that are placed upon my feet to protect me from harm, and have small orbs that illuminate on them.

Uh oh- Something has just occurred that I am probably to blame, and realizing this I shall place blame upon myself so you do not have too.

Hi- Greetings and salutations

Bahbah- Farewell

Larry, Moe and William

I mentioned before the Juggernaut qualities of William. His chubby body and persistance giving him and unstoppable air. Tables, chairs, falls, trips, fences, a leash, nothing will stop him from trying to get what he wants, except for himself.
William is a master at hurting himself, and not only hurting himself, but hurting himself in such a way that his mom and I cannot help but laugh. This may sound mean, but I hope my audience will understand just how comical it usually is by the end of this post. He is like a member of the three stooges, except he doesn't need two other people to make it funny.

This weekend in particular holds a good amount of what I will call self inflicted comedy. It started on Friday when we all went to Mason for a craft night and ice cream social. My girlfriend and I were sitting down waiting for it to start as William spun chairs around, walked in circles, and then proceeded to get on all fours and stare at his mother and I. For what seemed like minutes now he stared at us, until he saw it fit to ram his head as hard as he could into the ground. He stared up and cried, his mom and I rushing to console him and make sure he was ok as we held in our laughter.

Then came Saturday. My girlfriend and I were watching t.v. when we suddenly hear William fussing. We look down to see him stuck in a drum barrel. He has a small drum with a removable lid for easy storage of musical toys, and he had somehow gotten his butt stuck pretty neatly into the barrel. His legs and arms flapped uselessly as he tried to right himself like an upturned turtle.

And then came Sunday night. We were all driving home when William begins to fuss. My girlfriend and I attributed this to him being tired, as it is what he normally does. But his fussing continued long after his usual time and we began to wonder. It was not until we got home and pulled him from his seat that I noticed something amiss. William had pulled his right arm from the strap and it lay awkwardly on top of the seatbelt.
There are many more instances of these situations, but these are the most recent and prominent, and not the last I am sure.

William and Spirit

As the air gets cooler, the leaves become orange and everyone goes back to school my girlfriend and I get ready for our favorite candy themed holiday, Halloween. Neither one of us knows why we love Halloween, but we both know William will love it for the candy. In our quest to find couple themed costumes (We are thinking Batman and Robin at the moment) we have been to quite a few Halloween themed stores, the biggest of which being Spirit, the Halloween store that replaces ToyZam in the fall months.

As the blog is primarily about William I'll switch the focus to him now. He is now much better at holding hands, and when he doesn't we hook him up to his Elmo leash and let him enjoy the freedom a 4 foot radius circle allows. We walked into the store and the first thing that caught our eyes was the display of 6 or 7 moving Halloween decorations. As we approached the first one began to move, a monster in a cloak that made William jump. He pressed up against my legs, turned around and reached upwards, needing a safe embrace from the monster. This is when I started to question fear, a topic I will continue later in the blog.

As we went around William pressed closer and closer into my chest. His head turned from the rising vampires, the moving scarecrows, the haunted guides, the knife killer. His fear did not diminish until we reached the children's costume section, his need for independence returning now that the only objects staring at him were cardboard replicas of Lightning McQueen instead of psycho killers. Beckoning I place him down he ran for the replica, only to find it had no seats or steering wheels. Dismayed he made his way to his mom and asked up, then proceeded to ask to be let down as he saw the children's costume isles. Running through them he saw nothing that caught his eye, except for the empty shelf space. Colorful costumes array around him and he stops for the black, cold metal of the shelf they are on. I have since concluded he wants to be a shelf for Halloween, but his mom probably won't let me do that. 

On the way back through the store we found an animatronic Frankenstein (Yes I know Frankenstein's Monster) and he groaned and moved his arms and shook his head. William didn't seem phased. It may have been that we had shown him how they work by pressing the buttons, but he was not phased. He touched Frankenstein and then went to touch the button to make him move again. I won't get into my thesis on fear yet, but this is where I begin to see where childhood fear ends and adult fear begins. 

We made our way to the back of the store, where a sewer system had been set up. Inside this sewer system of misting pipes and oozing water were more decorations, all of these with a zombie theme. William was slightly scared at first of the groaning, munching, screaming, writhing decorations, and I had to hold him until we left. It was not until we went to the hat section, where William found a fireman's hat, that he would overcome his fear of the zombies. Donning the red helmet he raced to the back of the store, as if knowing that the fireman could save the people from the horrible zombies. I was so proud of him, rushing in to help people. I like to think this is the case, either that or he was going to show off his new hat to his Zombie friends.

The last thing we saw as we left the store was a fog bubble machine. It would blow a bubble full of fog about 10 feet up and then it would fall to the ground and burst into little smoke bubbles. William was fascinated by these, for about 10 minutes he stood there trying to catch them as they exploded on his hands and head. 

And now to my theory of fear. At first I could not figure out why William was afraid. He could not be afraid for the reason you or I would be afraid. You or I, thinking that the beings were real, would sense fear because of what we know they are. The undead, things that shouldn't exist, that they were creatures intent on our demise. But this cannot be what William is afraid of. He does not have the knowledge that these creatures are dead. He does not know they are out to get him. He is just afraid, a primal urge that things that look that way and sound that way should be feared. It is not startled, as I have seen him startled, he was afraid of these things. They were different. My theory is that there are two types of fear involved with Halloween and the undead. One is primal fear, the fear of the unknown, of things that are not like we are. Primal fear is the most base fight or flight response to something we do not understand but see it as out to hurt us. Knowledgable fear is the other kind. I am not afraid of a zombie because I do not know what it is. I fear the zombie because I know what it signifies. It signifies the end, of change, of something inherently wrong. And yet so very awesome. <3 Zombies.

William the super hero

I didn't get to see much of William this week. I had school and he went to his biological father's over the weekend. It was great having time alone with my girlfriend, and a much needed break, but it sadly means that any antics he may have gotten in are lost to me. Do not be discouraged though, for the blog will go on! I will use this as an excuse to draw William as comic book characters, and as such the blog post will be rather short, but with plenty of pictures.

Being a parent is much harder than I thought. Discipline, rewards, morals, ethics, intelligence, thirst for knowledge, etc, each of these are things I have to do, or wish to pass on, to William. The trouble is I've seen what our modern world is. I've seen the alabaster hero turned into many shades of gray. This has amazingly close ties with modern thinking as well as where America is in it's consciousness. When you research the changes in popular culture, as far as heroes go, you will find a trend of making pure heroes tainted, villains who are actually heroes, and anti heroes who steal the stage. I do not complain about this. I love the shades of gray. Hellboy is my favorite "superhero" because he lives his life in gray, his destiny is black, but in the end I love him because his heart is white. I use these terms as descriptives, much like light and dark side, it is the easiest way of discussing complex moral sides briefly.

So what is my problem? I do not think myself a hypocrite for liking the very thing I said I had trouble with, and that is because of my upbringing and my age. I grew up with the purists, when spiderman would never make a deal with the devil, when superman would never kill, when Dead Pool was a bad guy, when super heroes were paragons, symbols of humanities greatest strengths and of the American way. I will raise William with the purists. The paragons. The heroes. When he reaches a certain age where his critical thinking is high enough to understand moral dilemmas I will push him towards Hellboy and Wolverine, but until he reaches the stage where he can read between the lines I want him to learn about the light side. I want each superhero to teach him the lessons they taught me, so that one day he can learn to be a superhero in how he acts, how he talks, and how he lives.

I want him to read Spiderman so he can learn that with great power comes great responsibility.

I want him to read Batman so he can learn that you don't need superpowers to be a hero.

I want him to read Green Lantern to learn that imagination can take you anywhere.

I want him to read Superman to learn that you should always stand by your morals.

I want him to read Captain America so he can learn that freedom and justice are important.

I want him to read X-Men to learn that being different doesn't mean you can't help people.

I want him to read about these so that he can learn that you don't need to kill to win. I want him to read these so he can learn what a good guy is. What the light side is, so he can find it in everything he does.

When he is older I will introduce him to my other favorites, my new heroes, who make me think, who make me question what the light side is, and that sometimes the hardest choice is the right one, and that making that choice still makes these anti heroes good guys.

I want him to read Hellboy to learn that what other people tell you who you are is not important, and what is important is how you define yourself. I want him to learn that fate cannot hold the strong willed.

I want him to read Wolverine to learn that no matter what we do in the past, we can still be redeemed as a hero. (Yes I know Wolverine is an x-man, but the wolverine comics are quite different than the x-men comics.)

I want him to read Dead Pool to learn that humor is in all things, and that sometimes we need a little push to be a hero.

I want him to read comics because they are the human condition. They are who we should strive to emulate when times get tough. They are our morals and trials played out in epic scale.

The play area of DOOM!

During the hot summer months the inaccessibility, or un-usability, of playgrounds has made finding play areas for William somewhat of a challenge. Again I talk about the Spotsylvania town center, which should start paying me for using it as advertisement for places to take children. The play are is a small, enclosed space with one exit and a few rounded, squishy items for children to climb over. There are a few downsides to this play place, but today's post will focus on the positives.
William loves the play place. Even with the extremely crowded, rowdy area he finds the spaces to jump and run and get out as much excess energy as possible. His excitement is immediate and explosive. For the first ten minutes of play he cannot walk normally. His walk turns into an arm flapping, jumping, dance that continues until he tires or bumps into something.

Click the Picture for dancing!

After his initial lap of the play area he will then decide which soft yet dense object he should play on. Usually he goes to one of four objects. If he is near the bridge he will go up the bridge and attempt to walk or slide down it, usually with a good thump at the end. His next choice is usually the hollowed out tree with a slide and stairs. He will climb up one of the sides, wait inside for a few minutes, and then go down the slide or stairs, usually the opposite of whichever he went up.  The interesting thing about this is it doesn't really matter. The material the tree is made out of won't allow for sliding, and William either thumps down the stairs or he thumps down the slide. Next on the list is the horse and carriage, the object that absolutely terrifies my girlfriend, fearing that if William mounts the horse he will fall and hurt himself. He never has, and I am sure never will, but it is still something that he struggles to climb, and gravity is a harsh mistress. The fourth and final object is the small ducks in the pond that are just big enough for him to sit on and pretend to ride just like the horse.

I have sped through his playtime to talk about the meat of the play area, the object of attention William will always pay attention too 100% of the time. Outside of the play area, about 30 feet from the walls, is a toy helicopter kiosk. During the owners displays they make a loud whirring sound that draws the attention of William, and only William. When this sound reaches his ears he immediately climbs atop the highest thing he can find and points at it, like he is that random rebel soldier in Star Wars on Yavin IV that saw the Falcon coming in. 

This causes the main problem with the play area, the one exit. Upon seeing the helicopter William will get down, begin to walk around like everything is cool, and then book it straight for the opening. At first I equated this to a prisoner making a break for it so that he could escape from the wardens and live free.

This was until he ran for the helicopters, and then I realized it was less a prisoner making a break for it, but Arnold Schwarzenneger fleeing from the predator.

The weight of William on my shoulders

This past Saturday my girlfriend had an early morning job interview that lasted around 3 hours, as group interviews tend to go I imagine. While she was there William and I found ourselves in the unfortunate position of being awake at 8:30 AM on a Saturday. With rather slim choices of where to go I made the most obvious choice, the mall. I've mentioned the mall before, but I will recap as well as add a few details I may have glossed over last time.

The "Town Center", the formal name of the area mall, is a figure eight with a children's play area on one loop and the food court on the other with the normal mall stores in between. As a college student I typically ignore the stores, as any college student knows after gas and food (and gas) there is no money left for other things (because of gas). This means, along with every other student in the area, we wander the eight in an infinite loop. It's almost as if the shape of the mall was an infinity symbol, but that would be silly.

William and I walked for a little while, his right hand in my hand, his left hand pointing every which way as things caught his attention. Needless to say he was pointing at pretty much everything that moved, as well as everything that didn't move. Unlike his arms, his legs eventually got tired and beckoned to be carried. Instead of the typical way of baby on the hips I decided that the brick of baby that is William would be easier to carry upon my shoulders. I was now William's robot warrior, under his able command. Trusting upon the imagination of a one and a half year old did not lead to be as straightforward as I imagined. His inability to really understand the intricacies of a giant robot and the dire straits that we were in as the floor became lava, as well as being unable to speak, made his captains position more of a figurehead than a real commander. I would feign navigation issues as well as stabilization problems, jumping and spinning and running around the mall with a giggling baby on my head.

After I was sweating and sore, with a little hair missing from where his fingers had clung tight, an idea sprung to my mind. If I give William a sign saying www.timeforhugs.com and walk around the mall in much the same way I could draw awareness to this very blog as well as my comic. William and I would advertise the fun I have watching William while I watched William! Williamception! or something like that. My plan, although genius, backfired slightly when my hastily made cardboard sign became a weapon in the tiny warriors hands. Constant smacks on my head as well as lowering it to just the point where I could not see caused giggles and shouts to erupt from the tiny being upon my shoulders.

In honor of his great work advertising we went to Wendy's where we shared a frosty, as well as a new little toy for him to throw and fuss about when it didn't land where he could reach it.

William in the Library

It may go against logical thinking, but the public library is a convenient and effective place to entertain and watch a baby. When the popular image of a library comes to my mind I see a place that enforces a quiet atmosphere, as well as a lack of really anything for a kid to do who does not yet realize the joy of sitting down and listening to, or reading, a book. It wasn't until we my girlfriend and I started to go to a few different libraries that I began to see that many of them had children's areas that gave the kids a slightly away area to play, as long as they didn't play too loudly. 

It is at one of these libraries that William, my girlfriend, and I spend a lot of time. The kids area is a separate room with puppets, blocks, books, a felt board a wooden play area, and a cabinet with a giant bear on top of it. The hardest part of the room entails the bear and William's inability to pass by it without staring at it for a few minutes, reaching for it, then leaving the room to go explore the rest of the library. I have my suspicions that this bear is telling him to flee the kids room, lest William become trapped, just as the bear himself had. Or maybe he is just leaving to find a ladder so he can reach the bear.

Of the things in the room there are two aforementioned activities that will interest him enough that the constant calling of the bear is overcome by the fun of the toys. The first is the tray filled with blocks. Although William does not yet have the fine motor skills required to put the blocks on top of each other, he has realized he can push them around the room and say "choo-choo" a few times and the block becomes a train. It's rather entertaining to watch, as it's not only with blocks that he does this, but with many other objects that bear no immediate resemblance to a train at all. 

The other object of interest is the puppets. Although there are many puppets within the purple bucket in the rooms corner William finds one to be the most interesting puppet in the world. A small caterpillar with a place for a hand underneath him. While the monkey and elephant garner a few laughs from him, it is this caterpillar that when placed upon my hand will drive him into a laughing fit, especially as I make it scurry back and forward across the ground in front of him, or even tickle him with it. 

It is in public places like these that William has begun to learn how to interact with other children, and where I have learned I am a very defensive parent. I am constantly watching William or playing with him, and when he starts to throw blocks or run out of the room I will go over to him, tell him to stop, that he knows better, and depending on the offense a swat on the butt. He will normally realize that what he did was wrong and attempt to do something else. When I don't catch his act and someone else has to tell me about it I get extremely defensive. For the same thing I would discipline him for if I caught him, the second someone else tells me what he has done I get into a mode where every one of my words will be to defend his actions no matter what he has done. 

The library has been a great place for William so far, and will continue to be a place for my girlfriend, William and me to hang out in the hot summer days. 

Babies vs Mascots

It was perhaps an inevitable occurrence that at some point in time William, my girlfriend and I would find ourselves at a corporate sponsored story time. Nothing in life is free, and I'll gladly put up with a commercial or a chik-fil-a bias to things like William's story time than spend cash doing something else.

This story is not about the story time however, as William didn't even make it past the first 10 pages of the first book. No. This story is about William and his first experience with animals that walk around like man, that try to give him high fives and hugs and walk around with logos on their chests. This story is about William, and his first experience with the noble job of mascot.

His mom saw it first, the upper body of a red shirted cow making its way around the malls walled play area. After a few pokes she convinced me to turn around and she pointed towards the majestic creature that was giving all of the children big, bovine hugs. I am not sure this is the best idea, as teaching your kids to hug cows cannot possibly be the best lesson for them to learn should they ever find themselves in that situation.

My girlfriend and I both agreed that the cuteness factor of William hugging a giant cow would counteract any negative effects it may do to his one year old psyche so I picked him up and we made our way to the hugging herbivore. We stood near the wall and I placed him on the ground, his legs automatically backpedalling until he was pressed up against my shins. He pushed against me, terrified of this animal that walked like a man. I walked him forward, until we stood right in front of the unnatural creature. With his hand out for a high five William took a step forward, in the direction of his mommy, fleeing from this situation he now found himself in.

William and I sat down in anticipation for story time on the blue mats they had placed so that children need not sit on the floor. Next to us sat the cow, as in right next to us. William stared at it for over five minutes, his gaze fixed squarely on this affront to his world view. It was around the sixth minute where he accepted that the cow was not going to eat him and that he could touch it. After touching it for a few minutes he began to walk towards a newcomer. A bee from the local radio station who also sponsored the event had shown up and was standing near the wall where my girlfriend was. Towards this bee he was much friendlier. High fives and smiles abounded, but still he refused to hug the creature.

It was then, after a few more minutes of figuring out exactly what these creatures were, that he decided to tell the public of his findings. Standing in front of the cow, and in front of all the children (While an employee was reading the stories) he began to spout off a rambling sentence of gibberish that could only be about these animals that dared think they could act like people, and no matter how much clothing they wore they could never be best friends with humans. It was at this time we decided he was too much of a distraction to the other kids and took him away to get some lunch, where the cow and bee would no longer cause him such fits of confusion.

William the Marine

I have mentioned before the lack of anywhere in the area to take a baby that doesn't require out of pocket expense. Since then I have found an interesting fact, many of the museums in the D.C area are free to enter. A large, air conditioned area where all of the breakable stuff is behind unbreakable glass, it's a parents dream. William, leashed to his Elmo harness, is free to go anywhere he wants, at whatever speed he wants, as long as it's within a 4 foot radius of yours truly. So far most museums don't elicit any real response from him, his gaze drawn to the moving stairs that magically transport him rather than the exhibits themselves.

This was not the case when my girlfriend, William and I went to the Marine Corps Museum in Quantico. Although at first it did not garner any attention from him, his eyes more interested in the inside of his eyelids, as he had fallen asleep in the car ride over, which is to say, he fell asleep after fussing 25 minutes and then 5 minutes before we got there he placed his bucked upon his head and rightly conked out.

When he finally did wake up he was, understandably, confused as to his current location. He woke up while we were inside a sort of tracked transport and were moving on to an exhibit with the sound of gunfire and shouting. I am pretty sure at this point he felt as if we had deployed him without his prior knowledge, and that we had not given him the proper equipment to survive in a battlefield. For the rest of the museum exhibits he was quiet, aptly awestruck at the huge machines, shouting voices and crowded hallways as a baby should be. 

It was not until we entered the entrance of the museum again (as after the exhibits you enter back into a large open area that serves as the museums entrance) he began to point and shout. Although the ground had many amazing tanks and replicas of battle scenes his finger pointed upwards to the three aircraft that hung above our heads. Cries of "koo goo" were all we heard as we got on the elevator to go to the second floor. When we entered he began to move about and fuss in his stroller, upset that the planes were no longer able to continue what must have been a fascinating conversation with his imagination. While we walked around the upstairs (Which circles the main room and every 100 feet or so has an opening in the wall where you can see the entrance again) it was like a game of peek-a-boo. Every time he'd see the planes he'd point and laugh, and when they disappeared behind a wall he'd fuss about. 

After we had taken in the entire museum we decided to check out the gift shop for something small to keep William occupied the rest of the day. Inside, my girlfriend found a plaque of her favorite marine corps saying and a helmet for little man and we exited the museum, William's happy smile the only thing seen under the too big helmet. For the rest of the day as he walked about he held the helmet in both hands close to his chest, giving off the impression that he was no a respectful, humble, marine rather than a baby with a helmet that was too heavy for one hand.

Babies vs Freshman Part 2

           Last week I posed the idea that babies were, and are, smarter than your typical college freshman. This week I will continue some of the adventures I’ve had with William and how he has continually proven himself to be tougher, more driven, and more ingenious than a vast majority of college freshman, much like the fierce Chihuahua is more ferocious than the simplistic Pug.

I have described William as a baby behemoth, a singular force of pure persistence that once rolling cannot be stopped. William will proceed to gather 2 or 3 more bruises after an initial bump in the same amount of time it takes a normal person to finish their cursing of the furniture that dared to get in the way of their toe in the first place.

Unlike the toe, which is the hands down champion of body part most bumped against things in adults, (followed closely by the ironically named funny bone) William’s danger zone is his head. There is probably not one table in the student lounge that hasn’t met his hard head at least once. In addition to the tumbles he takes from running at a speed faster than his legs will allow, as well as falls he takes from trying to climb objects, William takes a lot of damage, to the point of which I am amazed I don’t hear a slight pinging sound that his health is low. None of this phases him, it’s a rare case that one of these actions will cause him to cry, just give a startled look and then go right back to doing whatever it was he was doing.

Why is this? Why doesn’t he seem to be phased by anything, to not complain when he fails? It’s his drive. I’ve rarely seen someone pursue an object of their desire with such single minded determination. Only when his goal is taken away from him does he begin to cry, like the sandwich situation I mentioned in my last post. It’s much like that scene in Lord of the Rings where Boromir takes 3 arrows before going down, purely determined to keep going, to save the hobbits. Although the obstacles aren’t as pointy, and the goal isn’t as noble, William is a hard force to stop once he gets his big blue eyes on something

It’s this drive that gets him through when toughness alone will not. William is ingenious when determining how to reach his goals. Treasure for him is always up. If he can see the corner of something on top of a table, he gets it in his mind to possess it, or to at least find out what it is. But tables are high, and the chair he would normally use to get up is halfway under the table. He begins to grab chairs from all around, pushing them although they are twice his size. The chairs begin to form a path to the table, until he can climb atop them and see his prize. It was ingenious, this almost one and a half year old kid creating the means with which to reach a scrap of paper on the top of the table.

I’ve learned a lot by watching William, and I’ll share more as this blog goes on, but this short primer to this Juggernaut of a baby. 

Post 1: Babies and Freshmen

It is an incontestable fact that babies are vampires. No, not sparkle in the sunlight, fight werewolves, Mormon vampires, but life sucking, sleep inducing, energy vampires. I believe this as a fact because the more tired I get, the more energetic he seems to get. Although this has nothing to do with this post specifically, I thought it best to say what happens on a day I am feeling 100%, as opposed to the story about the day I watched William during my girlfriends freshman orientation for college.

The day started early. I live over an hour away from my girlfriend and so to get her to a 10 o’clock event I had to wake up around 7. I know many of you may not pity my 7 o’clock woes, and may persist that I will need to get used to it, but it’s summer, and as a student in the summer I stay up late and wake up late. It’s all part of the college student circle of life.

I woke up with a headache and a sore throat, the beginning of a continuing summer cold that has dogged me for days afterwards. I made my way down to her house, and from there to her school. Her school is nothing new to me. She is taking summer classes before her freshman year, so we know the ins and outs of the building rather well. The typical school day would go like this. We’d get to school, hang out with each other in the student lounge until her class started, she’d go to class, and then William and I would hang out in the student lounge as we waited for her night classes to end. The people at the school were great about it, and seemed to understand the plight of a college student trying to find a place for his girlfriend’s baby to run around out of the summer heat that didn’t involve indoor fun parks or fast food purchases.

Again, on a normal summer class night this worked great. No one was there on a summer night, and the ones that were there on average were pro-baby, finding the somewhat annoyance of a babbling baby offset entirely by the adorableness that is William. Freshman orientation was not a normal day. My girlfriend and I parted ways as soon as we entered the door. With a kiss she went to orientation, William and I went to the student lounge.

            In the student lounge we stayed until something happened I should have expected: the catering came in.  At first, like anyone who is not one year old would think, I thought nothing of it. It was a guy, doing his job, and I was much happier playing “Please nap so Scotty can read” with William.
        That was not at all what William saw. To his mind this man with the cart full of boxes was a wizard who could make sandwiches appear from cardboard boxes, magic sandwiches that he placed upon the magic tables that he could reach using magic chairs, by means of magic.

William made a dash for the tables that were now filling with sandwich platters. His short, chubby legs propelled him with a speed that I had not thought possible until I had met this solid baby behemoth some months before. I was used to it now, and knew I could reach him before any of the magic sandwiches he so desired ended up falling upon his noggin. I sat and watched as he touched the platters, an occasional “No William” coming from my lips if he happened to get his hands too tight around one of the black, plastic bottoms. This could not go on though, because the freshman began to pour in, eager to take the sandwiches, stealing the magic from them that William wanted so dearly. I grabbed him and smiled, trying to take his mind off of the treasure he wasn’t going to have. I asked if he would like to go outside, to which he responded “uh” which I assumed meant yes to the question he assumed I asked of “Would you like a magical magic treasure?” because when I took him out he began to fuss, grabbing backwards for the goodies he was leaving behind.

 His fussing stopped however when we entered the hot Virginia outdoors. His face lit up as I removed him from his stroller and down upon the grass. I watched him run around and play, chasing him, picking him up and tickling him. For the majority of the time we had a blast, and it probably tired him out so much that the following was inevitable. William found a metal plate, shiny and hot. He touched it with his feet and gave a grimace. He stood up and stared at the plate, a look of “You dirty rat” on his furled brow. I began to move closer and said “William, stop, get away” and was right beside him when he decided he would rather run than be picked up by the brute who had earlier denied him his magic sandwiches. He started to run, but stopped as his feet booth came in contact with the plate. His face went from a smile to neutral, and then it slowly became one of “I rather wish I was anywhere but here right now.” I picked him up and went inside with him, much rather having sandwiches on his head, then burns on his feet.

 When we got inside about 2 hours had passed since when we had first arrived, another 2 still looming ahead. We found my girlfriend in the lounge; her groups turn to feast upon the smorgasbord of bread and meat. I, pretending to be an upcoming freshman, went and grabbed some sandwiches for William and myself. His eyes lit up as he finally could eat the treasure he desired, the cookie his mother had just given to him. My girlfriend told me of the people she was with, how she already knew most of the things that were being told to her, and that the people she was going to school with were as immature as the high-schoolers she had left behind. I laughed, glad to be hanging out with William over the company she was keeping. Babies and Freshman have a lot in common, but babies are smarter.

to be continued