Archive for the ‘
People ’ Category
Sunday, July 8th, 2012
“Jack is just a little version of Nick!” is something people never say, nor should they say. Whenever I post a new picture of my son and me on Facebook, no one compares the two of us. Because, really, there’s nothing to compare.
I look like the token Jewish actor from any and every sitcom you’ve ever seen in your life and my son looks like he stepped out of a time machine from the 194o’s… from Norway.
While I’m an olive-complected (I’ve got a green tint to me; it’s more noticeable when I wear black) and have dark brown hair, my son has a porcelain shine to his skin, along with undeniable blue eyes and (for now) blonde hair.
My physique makes me the kind of guy you’d expect to play the super hero before he turns into the super hero.
Meanwhile, my son, who is in the 75% for weight, is a strong and sturdy boy who inspires people to ask me what sports I think he will play when he gets older.
(Rugby, wrestling, football… all of the above.)
Yesterday I was at the pool with my son and my wife. While it didn’t feel like anyone was staring at us, I thought how if anyone there was people-watching us, they would surely assume our son was adopted.
It doesn’t matter to me or bother me that my son is keeping alive the rarest genes of my wife and me. It’s simply something I’ve noted from the beginning. And now at 19 months, the lack of physical similarity is still very evident.
Yeah, it’s weird and it’s funny to me, but for some strange reason I sort of like the unpredictability of it.
Every time friends hang out with us who haven’t seen us in a while, they always look at Jack, then at my wife and I, then back at Jack. Then they say us, “Who do you think he looks like?”
They say this thinking that because he’s our flesh and blood, we’ll have some magic intuitiveness that helps us see some resemblance they apparently don’t.
Well, no magic here, folks.
I imagine there’s a decent chance that as my toddler son transforms more into a real boy and eventually a young man, he will begin to look at least a little bit more like me.
Or at least his Mommy.
Either way, it’s safe to say that at least, physically, he’s no “mini-me.”
I think if he and I were given a “resemblance score” we would get 0%.
But hey, I’m open for a second opinion.
If you, the reader, see more of a resemblance than I do, let me know.
Would you give us a score higher than 0%?
Add a Comment
Wednesday, June 27th, 2012
In his New York Times bestseller, Eating The Dinosuar, Chuck Klosterman proposes a theory I’ve subconsciously thought about for a good number of years now:
“Let’s say you built a time machine to kill ‘Baby Hitler’ in 1889. Committing that murder would mean the Holocaust never happened. And that would mean you’d have no motive for going back in time in the first place, because the tyrannical Adolf Hitler, the one you despise, would not exist.”
Not only would you be killing a yet still innocent baby, who’s to say that an even worse, unstoppable antichrist wouldn’t have risen up during that same time and took his place? Like Super Shredder in the 2nd Ninja Turtles movie.
But forget about killing Hitler as an infant. Instead, as a friend on Facebook recommended, why not kidnap “Baby Hitler” and then raise him as your own, therefore causing him to never become the demonic monster we know him as today?
I’m not endorsing kidnapping infants here, but my friend did get me thinking:
Could pretty much any of us have prevented Hitler from becoming Hitler?
Sure, none of us parents are perfect. But I have to assume that if I raised a future Hitler, with my structured yet loving parenting style, things would have turned out a lot different.
This is an ultimate question of nature versus nature.
But am I wrong? As parents, does our influence not have enough power to raise up a child to be good?
And by “good” I mean “not Hitler.”
I realize this Dadabase post is so weird and abstract and potentially unrelatable (and offensive?) that it may easily never show up in the Most Read Posts or Most Recent Comments section at the top right side of this page.
Just the same, if there are any other parents out there willing to engage me in this hypothetical question, I would love to hear your take on it:
If you raised “Baby Hitler” (or any potential antichrist or at least a serial killer, for that matter) from infancy, would they turn out as a normal human being instead? Would your positive influence on an innocent child be able to prevent the outcome had the actual parent raised the child?
Add a Comment
Adolf Hitler, antichrist, Chuck Klosterman, Deep Thoughts, Eating the Dinosaur, parenting | Categories:
Deep Thoughts, Must Read, Nostalgia, People, Spirituality, The Dadabase
Tuesday, June 26th, 2012
Jack has recently acquired a farm/zoo. And boy is he proud to take care of his Made in China plastic toys. I mean, his furry little friends.
This past weekend at his cousin Calla’s house, Jack discovered a “Farm Animal Play Set” my sister and her husband had bought on clearance for 3 bucks at Target. The set consists of a clear backpack filled with many familiar animals.
Why exactly the “farm” set included a mother and baby ostrich as well as a wolf, I don’t know.
Nor could I tell you why there is a random African-looking tree along with two logs. How certain things made the cut remains a mystery.
Not to mention that the “baby” animals are simply miniatures blended in from some leftover batch from Taiwan; clearly not originally intended to be in relation to the “mother” animals, which for some reason all have red eyes.
Needless to say, I named the dog with red eyes, Cujo.
And I couldn’t help but notice the adult duck is nearly the size of the adult ostrich.
One more thing, the larger sized animals were glued together; you can clearly see where the cow’s head was glued on to the rest of its body. (I have seen these exact ones sold separately at Michael’s for like 2 bucks a piece.)
Well, I shouldn’t have been surprised that Jack is completely unaware of just how “Frankensteined” his mismatched farm set is. All he knows is, he loves his animals.
Don’t all kids?
Jack has to be holding 3 of his animals at all times: in the car, in bed, during meals, even while running from me as I chase him across the house during playtime.
Yesterday when he saw that the dishwasher was empty, he grabbed the utensil caddy and carried it over to the coffee table. Then he carefully placed the mutant duck and Cujo in their own separate compartments.
He waited a few seconds and stared at the wall, as to symbolize the passing of several hours. Finally, he woke up the animals and removed them from the utensil caddy, I mean, their stalls: The plastic rooster had apparently crowed.
Kids love animals. Heck, they’re obsessed with them.
Take a look through your child’s favorite books or check out the covers of their favorite DVD’s. Humans are rare. Instead, talking animals have replaced us.
To a toddler, animals are something to be enthralled by.
Animals look funny, they have their own strange movements, they make weird distinct noises, and they’re lovable; except for the ones that are vicious and deadly; but in a child’s world, they by default are all enchanted.
(Have you noticed how many friendly lions and alligators are featured on your little boy’s shirts? I have. It’s pretty funny.)
I’m not the kind of guy to use the word “sweet” in the emotional sense, but I have to admit, it makes my heart smile to see him so earnestly trying to care for the needs of his animals.
You’ve already heard about Jack hosing down Cujo and Mutant Duck. (They must be his favorites.)
Well, now you know that his animals are a full-time responsibility.
They must not only be cleaned, but also fed and given a good night’s rest in their stalls. As long as the dishwasher isn’t full.
For more pictures of Jack with his animals, visit The Dadabase’s Facebook and click on the photo album, Jack’s Farm/Zoo.
Add a Comment
Monday, June 25th, 2012
19 months old.
This past weekend while in Alabama celebrating Jack’s cousin Calla’s first birthday, Jack decided that his new plastic pet dog and duck needed a bath.
My dad, who Jack calls Papa, found a make-shift wading pool so Jack could take proper care of his furry friends. I mean, I’m sure Cujo and Mutant Duck needed a good cool-down as they were getting pretty smelly in the hot summer sun.
So Jack was introduced to a new power tool: The water hose.
I imagined he would go crazy with it right away. But instead, he took on the demeanor of a middle-aged man joyfully yet carefully working on a weekend project involving power tools.
My dad helped show Jack how the nozzle on the hose could change the speed and intensity of the water shooting out.
It was at that point that the inevitable finally happened:
Yes, Jack turned the weapon on his Papa.
As you can see from these pictures, Jack had a blast…
Or maybe it was my dad who had the blast, literally.
This was definitely one of those unplanned, accidental good memories that wouldn’t have been quite as good if it were planned.
It was completely spontaneous. Jack didn’t have time to switch to swim clothes first.
All I know is I was talking to my mom and sister in the kitchen, then Jill walked in and said:
“Come here, you have to see this!”
It was the perfect result of my son’s quest for adventure and my dad’s knack for making adventures out of ordinary things lying around the house.
On the drive back to Nashville yesterday, Jill and I were talking about how we wish there was some way Jack could actually remember this event happening.
Well, I have a feeling we’ll be doing this spontaneous, unplanned water show again the next time we visit.
For more pictures of the water show, visit The Dadabase’s Facebook and click on the photo album, Jack’s Farm/Zoo.
Add a Comment
fun, fun in the sun, hot water, summer, Summer 2012, summertime, toddler, water | Categories:
Growing Up, Must Read, People, Story Bucket, Storytelling, The Dadabase
Thursday, June 21st, 2012
My son’s pronunciation of words is much limited right now. For example, “cookie” sounds a lot different when it comes out of his mouth. In fact, it’s pretty difficult for me to keep a straight face. Why?
He hasn’t learned the “k” sound yet. And the “oo” vowel sound is more of a short “i” sound.
I’ll put it this way. “Cookie” becomes a word that rhymes with “pity” but starts with a “t” instead of a “p”.
On top of that, when Jack asks for a cookie after dinner, he generally whines for it. Hearing a toddler whine for that is pretty hilarious.
But sometimes, his “k” sound is more of an “sh” sound, making “cookie” another equally censor-worthy word in the land of toddlers.
So either it sounds like he’s upset because he wants to return to the early days of being breastfed or he’s upset because he has a dirty diaper.
Inappropriate and therefore wildly entertaining. Because I evidently I have the mind of a Junior High boy again.
It’s kind of hard not to when your son tries so honestly to ask for a cookie yet is working his way down George Carlin’s list of “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television.”
I’m guessing every toddler goes through their accidental stage of cursing like a sailor.
According to my mom, back when I was 2, I had this toy 18 wheeler truck that I stored my Hot Wheels in. Evidently I carried it around with me everywhere, referring to it as my “fruck.” Pretty close call for 1983.
Alright, so let me hear it. Tell me about your kid’s unintentional profanities, if you dare.
Add a Comment
censorship, cursing, cussing, George Carlin, profanity, toddler | Categories:
Growing Up, Home Life, Must Read, Nostalgia, People, Story Bucket, Storytelling, The Dadabase