I have had the joy and terror of watching my son go from infant to toddler. I remember when he was just a baby, lying on his monkey blanket and screaming because he wasn’t fond of tummy-time. I remember looking around the house and thinking that I was going to have to baby-proof the house some day. Some day…WAAAAY off in the future.

Now, I look at this kid and I think that I need to child-proof the house, not because it’s going to hurt him. But rather because I’m afraid he’s going to hurt the house! My dad used to joke that I could destroy a steel ball with a rubber hammer. Yeah…I know what he meant now.

So, we know the kid is destructive like I was. And I’m going to just assume that he will systematically dismember or dismantle his toys in short order trying to figure out what makes them ‘go’. I see his mind working like that now. To save myself frustration and outright rage, all of his electronics will be used! OR I’ll find non-working ones for him to take apart. Gotta plan ahead.

He even looks like me! A lot! But sometimes I just don’t think he’s mine. This kid is just too damned tough! Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not some wilting violet here. But I wasn’t known for having the tuff as a kid.

This is what ‘tuff’ looks like.


I knew he had the tough when he was learning to walk. Or shall I say, when he was learning to fall and miss the ground. The kid leads with his head. He would just lean forward and move his legs until he hit the ground. Soon it was several steps before he would hit the ground. Then it was several more. The problem was, he was wreaking havoc on the coffee table and his head! The safety cushion was nothing more than a passing play thing. He successfully removed that in short order. I’m sure, it’s so he could get that satisfying THUNK when he hit.

The first time he whacked himself really good, I thought I was going to shit. Seriously. He took about three headlong steps and was too far away for me to stop him as he started building steam and smack…right into the coffee table. He screamed bloody murder. Mom picked him up and I ran into the kitchen for Boo-Boo Bear. So as not to alarm him by seeing daddy freak the hell out, I ran in going “Wee-Ooooo Wee-OOOooo Boo-Boo Bear-mergency!” I also grabbed an otter pop on the way. (If you don’t know what Otter Pops are…well, then you just need to google that RIGHT NOW.) It’s okay, I’ll wait.

Back? Good. We tried the ice pack on the head, he didn’t want it. The goose-egg on his forehead was really rising and starting to look a little purple. EEK! So, I gave him the otter pop to see if I could distract him long enough to get some cold compress on the head. Whatevs!

He took a few bites of the ice pop and was looking at us like, “What’s the big? Just rub some dirt on it.” And he was off again. That’s how it is with this kid. If he cries, it’s not for long. Most of the time, he ends up with bruises or scrapes and you just wonder where the hell he got it! He never whines about his boo-boos. It’s as if they are some minor inconvenience and he can’t be bothered with them.

So, he’s got the tough I always wanted as a kid. Do I guess that only means one thing.

My wife is a bad ass…and she passed it on to our son. Way to go babe! 😀

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2 Responses

  1. Jillian

    Glad you didn’t apply the otter pop to his head. Boy you are bringing back memories of my 3 badass boys. Well…let me think about that for a sec, perhaps they were more like their mom who is actually, not such a bad ass, more like a bad comedian!

    Love this post!


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