Wednesday, September 30, 2009


Cash & Dad’s First Year and a Quarter

I believe in evolution ... but it's perplexing. Take the eye. What is the halfway point to an eye, half an eyeball? To work, the eye seems to require, from the start, all the pieces in place.

Nonetheless, I see evidence of in-between states all the time. Cash, you happen to be proof-in-point. Racewalking, the half-state between running and walking, would be hard to imagine if it didn’t exist in its awkward form. Racewalking seems less an evolutionary step than an unnatural, man-made concoction between two natural states -- yet it turns out to be your most cutting edge from of transportation. You cannot run. Instead, you’ve evolved a fast forward shimmy, fists pumping, legs scissoring, knees snapping back in the inefficient pace of a racewalker!

I’ve taken to following you. I slink around, stalking your two foot high spiky hair as you bounce from curiosity to need, from your blue monkey to a hug from mama. More often than not, you are interested in whatever Luke is playing with, generally a truck or train. You particularly relish surprise assaults on Luke’s intricate train formations, quietly getting in position before hitting them hard. As the engines and cars rain down, Luke shrieks each of their names, “Thomas! Hank! Charles!” You finish the hit-and-run with something in-between.

Most of my attempts to tail you fail. You sense my presence. You accelerate giggling wildly. The chase is on and I transform into a heavy footed monster, pounding behind you. You screech with delight and we chase from the kitchen, into the foyer, to the dining room, into the living room and back into the kitchen -- a well worn loop we call the "Racing Track". With Luke frequently joining us, we go round and round crescendoing in a big tickling, screaming pileup!

These adventures leave me in awe of your self contained, independent mind and how you challenge your comfort zone daily. Your growing independence is sometimes a shock. “He is doing his own thing,” said Icland, your half-day nanny and frequent baby sitter a couple days ago. Responding to my confused look, she said, “Cash doesn’t need you all the time anymore. He’s entertaining himself!” Why did I feel like the young child reaching for his departing parent? The depended becomes the dependent.

Balancing these tether snapping events are your ever strengthening relationships, most particularly with Churchill. The dog, already hampered with identity issues (he pees without lifting his leg), now believes he is a horse. You routinely climb on top of him as if hopping into a saddle. You are the only person who plays fetch with him, though its a strange form of fetch. You give him ball only to scream as if he swiped it from you; then you take the item back, hold it, hand it back to him, and scream again! You have a strange relationship, like a marriage.

Your appearance has undergone quite a transformation. You are thin and tall versus most children your age. Your hair is electricution spiky and the darkness has dissolved away to blondness and a trace of red, a gift from Grangie. You have two upper front teeth and two teeth only. Our strawberry blond chipmunk!