Whenever Jack hears any kind of music, he just starts dancing. I realize, though, I may be using the word “dancing” pretty loosely.
Sure, he’s got moves like Jagger… but mixed with a little bit of Stevie Wonder’s signature head swing from side to side and while awkwardly putting his arms straight out like Frankenstein.
It can be Phil Collins’ soft rock, Bon Jovi’s hard rock, Jason Aldean’s country rock, or simply a cheesy jingle on the radio: No matter what kind of song it is, Jack believes it deserves the same dance moves.
In other words, my son has soul but he ain’t got no rhythm.
He’s pretty much obsessed with dancing right now. He has this zebra scooter which he refuses to ride until I hit the music button on it.
Similarly, he won’t begin eating his breakfast or dinner until my wife turns on the radio on top of the fridge.
Jack will point up to the stereo, waiting until he hears a melody before touching the food on the tray of his high chair.
This morning as I was helping my wife get him dressed, he was being pretty cranky for no good reason. I tried distracting him by making stupid faces and weird jungle sounds, but it was to no avail.
So my wife and I decided to sing an unrehearsed duet for him: The Alphabet Song.
By the letter F, he was laughing and working on his dance moves.
And while he doesn’t even care about watching TV in the first place, perhaps for our own entertainment, my wife and I like to turn on The Backyardigans (via Netflix streaming through our Wii) just to watch him get all excited and Jagger around to the surprisingly un-catchy, yet unforgettable, theme song.
My son is definitely a dancing machine. Here again, I’m using the word “dancing” pretty loosely.
Whenever I see a baby boy, I usually think of a man between the ages of 45 and 65 years old, because while taking a child psychology class in college at Liberty University, I remember seeing side-by-side photographs in my textbook which compared a baby boy and a middle-aged man. The example showed how as a man grows older, he begins to look more like he did as a baby. (Baby girls don’t look like middle-aged women, though.)
Something that has become pretty apparent this week is that Jack (my son) and Jack (my dad) have a special connection. Baby Jack gravitates his attention towards my dad if he is in the room. Not only is he fascinated by hearing his voice, but he also will get the biggest smile anytime my dad looks his way. And as these YouTube clips below will show, a certain side of Jack’s behavior only opens up for my dad. Their relationship is unmatched even to my own relationship with my son, therefore convincing me there really is something to this “baby boy/middle-aged man” deal. I think it’s really cool to see the dynamics between Baby Jack and his Pappy.
On a less sentimental note, Jack reminds me of things other than just a middle-aged man. When my wife is holding him on her shoulder, he often reminds me of a Glow Worm. And when when gets confused, he looks like Mac the alien from the mostly forgotten movie Mac and Me. And when he’s passionate about eating, he makes this grunting sound that is so similar to Mr. Peepers from Saturday Night Live: “Bah-bah-bah-bah!”
Eventually, he will make me think more of a little boy. For right now, what I am seeing in him are his attempts at being human: like his attempts to walk, his attempts to talk, and even his attempts to show affection. Whatever he reminds me of at any certain point in the day, something I am aware of is how adorable he is. Whether he reminds me of a pet, an alien, or a stuffed animal from the Eighties, I just know I can’t imagine life without him.
Things that Baby Jack reminds me of right now:
Middle-aged men, like the magnificent Phil Collins
Mac the alien
Mr. Peepers (sounds like while eating, but doesn't look like)