Cash & Daddy's Second Year and a Quarter
In an old legend, a group of blind men each grab a different part of an elephant. “It is a pillar!” says one. He touched a leg. Another says, “It’s a plowshare.” He touched a tusk. On down the line, each man reaches a radically different conclusion.
When getting to know someone, I am often one of these blind men. Grasping a personality is often realizing you are only holding one part of the beast. You might meet a co-worker in a new setting, say a social or family environment, and you discover unexplored territory. The experience can be jarring. A passive person turns into a monster on the basketball court -- an aggressiveness you never imagined!
Cashy, many a friend will experience observational whiplash with you. On your behavioral stage, some hardy personalities tangle and elbow their way to the front. How they reside in the same person is a mystery!
Perhaps some introductions are due …
Well, hello Cashonova. Of course you are the first. The shortest distance between any two points is your path to the nearest gorgeous woman. She’ll pick you up faster than a fluffy puppy dog, look into your eyes, and experience untainted innocence smiling upon her. She is loved and so are you. Your head graces the female bosom more often than a pillow. Even worse, you down right expect it. You already have a girlfriend in two-year-old FireFly class: Dafnie. You beat me by fifteen years!
Whoa! Not so pushy Casholeon! You’ve received your due in earlier entries of this blog! Yes, your relentless campaign for territory and toys has left a mark on our household leaving your older brother whimpering. Bored after 5 minutes of the World Cup, you turned the off daddy's TV repeatedly. Once fixed on a prize, your body barrels through mental, physical and even verbal barriers causing my hairline to retreat faster than a French infantry line. And what is the need for inherent physical power when you can harness the power of others! Casholeon is bossy!
Things must be getting overwhelming. Casherubim has beaten a hasty retreat into Mommy’s pouch. Peering from this safe vantage point, your two-year-old remarks gain pomp. “Daddy is a poo.” If daddy or Luke approach, you turn your head away, nestling deeper into moma’s embrace. You are a moma’s boy through and through, and, you’ve learned quite well, untouchable in that state! Rachel is thrilled.
We are charmed to have all these flavors in one child! The icing on the cake, however, is your smarts. Cashy insights strike unexpectedly like lightening on a cloudless day. Last week, Lukey and I were chatting about his newest favorite subject, volcanoes. You were lounging around on the floor playing, ignoring us (as usual). Luke’s overly thorough interrogation led us to a logical impasse. “But WHY do volcanos erupt?” I was doing a terrible job explaining the pressure build up of magma within a volcano. Then, suddenly out of thin air, you say,
“It’s like a bubble popping.”