I actually don’t have any images to post this week, but I have something even better – a video clip!!

We all decided to go for a walk a couple of weeks ago – the sun was out but the temperature was still pretty cold, hovering around 34. So we bundled Will up, hopefully for the last time this season, and were preparing to head out. The clip tells the rest of the story…

Will has some problems! (3mb)

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When one has a child around the house and that child is the first child in the house, one tends to obsess about nearly everything. Here is an example: Will has recently begun experimenting with different head movements; specifically, moving it from side to side as if emphatically shaking his head “no.” Sounds harmless. Probably normal, too. But as first time parents of a year old, it doesn’t seem harmless or normal. As a result, we tend to blurt out things like “DID YOU SEE HIM DO THAT? IS THAT NORMAL?” (usually in a slightly emphatic tone, followed by a slightly uncomfortable smile… and oftentimes when no one else is even around). So you see, everyday logic tends to take a backseat to crazy-first-parent-intuition: the feeling that whatever is going on, it can’t possibly be normal.

Which leads me to our latest experience: the technicolor poo. To save you the suspense, turns out that if a 1 year old (could happen at other ages, but we’re not there yet) eats enough blueberries, his poo will turn blue. Same theory holds true for oranges and green beans. Haven’t been able to verify strawberries, but will let you know how that one turns out. So you can imagine our initial reaction to blue poo. Granted, funny thoughts of smurfs and such ran through our heads, but they were quickly replaced with “DID YOU SEE THAT? IS THAT NORMAL?” …in a slightly emphatic tone, followed by a slightly uncomfortable smile – okay, so the smile was still lingering from the smurf thoughts, but it sounds good. My first reaction was to scour the Internet for reference material, but I have been barred from self-diagnosis so I steered clear of that option. Then the most amazing thing happened: I stopped worrying about it and sort of enjoyed it. And it has since become almost a game to me, kinda like the “license plate game” (you know, when you see who can spot different states’ license plates on a trip) – “Guest what honey, I saw an orange one today!” Just how fun is that? Of course the look on Will’s face as I gleefully congratulate him on a nice “green one” translates into something like “DID YOU SEE THAT? IS THAT NORMAL?” …as if I am the strange thing he is observing that defies logical or normalcy.

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It seems like we spend a handful of blurred and bruised years being a kid and then the rest of our lives thinking back to days gone by and furtively searching for ways to recapture our youth. In other words, wouldn’t it be great to be a kid again?

Will is little more than a year old now and becoming more little-boy-like each day. He giggles when snuck-up-upon, he plays peek-a-boo behind anything, and oftentimes (much to the dismay of mom and dad) enjoys just making noise. Let me clarify that last part a bit: he enjoys making noise simply and purely for the benefit of noise itself. Now that is being a kid!

To assist Will in his daily adventures, I have no choice but to step up to the plate, put on my responsible-dad cap, and play right along with him (come on, why should he get to have all of the fun). And do you know what? It is soooo much fun that I sometimes can’t see straight (that or my aging brain lacks the oxygen from my aging heart and can’t process images very quickly). So each day that Will and I play and dance and read and lay around and just basically be, I can’t help but feel as though I am being a kid again and that is one of the best parts of this whole parenting deal. Sure you have to be responsible, work, pay bills, say “no,” clean the house (though I am not-so-good on this one), and all of the other myriad duties that define being a married, adult, home-owning parent. BUT… you also finally get to taste the sweetness of youth a second time around. And when you cut through all of the layers of being a grown-up, blurred and bruised fun is still there, waiting to get out and roll around a bit.