Woah, it's been a good bit of time since I've updated. I have a lot to write, but I suppose I will get to that in time. For now I will entertain you all with the tale of the first christmas I had with William: Christmas 2011.
William has grown quite a bit since the last time I have talked about him. He can speak with quite a few more words, and he has grown in his understanding of the world in numerous ways, including how to play with toys. For a few months he has been fascinated by cars. "Car" has replaced "Ball"on the list of things I can anticipate hearing at least 50 times a day.
Switching gears, but keeping in mind William's fascination with cars, our focus will change to the Holiday we spend two months preparing for: Christmas.
I'm not sure how much William knows about Santa. We've tried to explain it to him, but the concepts seem to be over his understanding at the moment. This detail would not distract him from his presents however.
At 8 Oclock the festivities began, with us telling William to go downstairs, and with William not really knowing to expect presents. We emptied his stocking in front of him and he immediately grabbed the Optimus Prime helmet, along with two straws. All of the other toys at the moment did not matter, as he wanted to wear the helmet and run around with the straws shouting "PEW PEW!" At his mother and I.
It was with some gifts that I learned the number one role of being a dad of young children during christmas: I had to build everything. No matter what it is, a car ramp, cardboard blocks, bike etc, it was up to me to put it together. On a completely unrelated topic, do you know a fully built toy to a toddler is like a red flag to a bull? It's like a siren call, a siren that is soon to be destroyed by a toddlers destructive grasp.
As the morning progressed, and more present unwrapping occurred, William became overwhelmed with the multitude of gifts that had come his way. He took to playing mostly with the big toys, and as we were playing upstairs I took this moment to bring the smaller toys down to his toy box. My plan was working perfectly until attention was drawn to me. Caught red handed, a rocking horse in hand, William stared at me and started to cry. Amidst his tears I took the toy downstairs, at which point he gladly went back to his rocking tricycle.
Wrapping up the first part of Christmas, which at the time of writing I am now two months late for, William did do one other thing of note. As my girlfriend and I cuddled on the couch, content in watching whatever was on TV at the time, William came up to us and started beckoning us to play with his new toys, despite the fact for the greater part of the past 3 hours we had played with him. Of course how can you say no to this face?
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