Cash & Daddy's Second Year and a Half
Throw a rock in water and, kurplunk, a beautiful pattern of concentric circles emerge. Unfortunately, those ripples lose energy as they expand, a function of the distance squared, otherwise the pattern would delight forever. A similar algorithm is imbedded in children.
I call it the Law of Willpower Loss (the “LWL”): the farther a child get’s from a parent, the faster energy drains from his willpower. He get’s more and more uncomfortable, first drastically, then hysterically. It’s an invisible energy tether keeping the child close.
That’s the usual deal. Cash, kids like you are the dangerous exception. These children surf what should be a wave of growing fear, gaining speed and confidence inversely proportional to the LWL. A wound-up spring unleashed, I often watch helplessly as the back of your hay-head speeds away killing any illusion of who is really tethered to whom. To you and your brethren, nothing says freedom like --
Frustratingly, you show no sign of this pent up energy when securely in my power radius. In fact, quite the opposite -- speed isn’t in your vocabulary. If I give you any instruction whatsoever, without turning you say, “Two minutes”, throwing two lackless two fingers in the air. The Cashese interpretation: I’m not moving.
If you were a superhero, you’d be Captain Independence. You are unencumbered by parental, teacher or peer pressure (that will come), and you are not above flaunting your disregard. Take our tireless work on potty training. You recently whipped out your peeps, smiled at me, then peed on the kitchen floor. Not done, you then dipped your hair in the puddle and said, “Daddy, I’m wet!”
I'd be worried if you didn’t have a razor sharp wit and experimental mind. Nonetheless, some of these experiments leave me wondering.
Perhaps after that video, we should end with a sample of your wit. Vanessa and Tavis visited us this quarter pregnant with their first child. Noticing the little bump in her stomach, you pointed and said, "There's a baby in there!" We had no idea how you figured it out, but I suppose you picked it up just casually listening. Then you lifted you shirt showing your bare, white belly and screamed, "I'm empty!"
You've started your first ever class at River School. You are the Firefly class with two wonderful teachers named Mrs. XXX and Ms. XXX. Not surprisingly, you best friend is a girl. Shocker. Her name is Dagney and you appear to be a couple, Cashanova.