1 - Once upon a time, in a land not so far away from me geographically but light years away emotionally, I had a son who was incapable of locomotion, propulsion, independent movement. He would lie on his back all day, asleep or awake, except when he wanted to be fed or entertained, then we would carry him. These were halcyon days. Life was good. True, he demanded entertainment from time to time, but everything was so simple.
2 - Then my son learnt to roll over onto his stomach. Wow! we gushed. How clever, how active, how physically advanced for his age. (One might reasonably think that we were talking about a puppy dog. They may be right, but that is another matter altogether). Then he started to move. slowly at first, and on his stomach, but movement it was. Impressed, we were. The product of good genes, obviously. Starting to crawl when the instruction manual...no, sorry, the Baby Books say that he should just be learning to roll over. I would walk on the street and see other parents with their children lying helplessly on their backs, and think to myself, my son is cleverer than yours (I am sure there is a link between being able to roll over and being clever. Give me time, and I'll figure it out and let you know)
3 - Then Lo! and behold, he pushed himself up on all fours. He rocked back and forth for a day or so, as if he was trying to launch himself into space. We sat and watched in awe. He'll be walking before his first birthday, his grandmother opined. Walking before his first birthday? We whispered to ourself, unable to contain our excitement. What a wonderful son we have.
4 - Then he started to move. And it all went horribly wrong.
5 - The thing is, he crawls faster than I can walk most of the time. And he is an inquisitive little bugger too. Lethal combination. You put him on the floor, blink and Poof! he's gone. Of course he doesn't answer when you call. Fat chance. So I run round the house, dreading the moment when I find him face down in the trashcan, eating the night before last's leftovers, or in the bathroom, cheerfully glugging out of the toilet bowl. When I do track him down, He looks up at me and grins, toothy cheeky grin, almost as if to say 'I was just here, waiting for you - I would never go out of your sight.' Almost.
6 - So I am thinking of investing in a GPS tracking system to keep tabs on him. Or failing that, an old fashioned collar and bell that rings when he moves. We've also put childproof locks on all the cupboards. Which, incidentally means that I have to ask for Dr M's permission whenever I want to clean my teeth. Childproof locks my bottom.
7 - He has a curious, almost touching attachment to our telephone. Whenever he's bored, he makes a beeline for it, takes it of the hook (actually, he pushes the cradle to the floor then picks the telephone up carefully, then tries to devour it whilst pressing random buttons at the same time. Last week, he called Pizza Hut. Next week, he'll probably find a telephone pal in Ulan Bator or Calcutta.
8 - I tried to block his path to the telephone by building a maze-like arrangement with the dining chairs. It lasted three days. The first day, he tried to crawl underneath the chairs. the second day, he tried to elbow them aside. On the third day, he figured out a route around the chairs. Apparently lab rats take longer to figure out similar puzzles. So I was both proud of, and pissed off with the boy as he telephoned 911 with his tongue and new front tooth.
If this was not bad enough, he then learnt to stand. Dear Jesus...
9 - He pulls himself to an upright position, looks about him to make sure that no-one is within catching distance, then raises his hands to heaven. You an almost hear R.Kelly warbling in the background 'I believe I can fly...' Just before he topples to the ground, head first.
10 - Somehow (and no thanks to me) he has managed to avoid serious injury. He has actually learnt to lower himself, gently, to about three inches from the ground before letting himself drop onto his bottom. Then he grins. Oh, what fun!
11 - Less fun is the fact that he has learnt to climb the staircase. Which is all well and good, until he decides, round about step twelve, that he needs a break, and tries to lower his bottom into thin air.
Which leads me, in a round about way, to why I am not a Socialist.
12 - I believe in the market economy. I believe in outsourcing, globalisation, etc. I am a devotee of Milton Friedman and Frederich Hayek.
13 - In practice, this means that I do not believe in doing things if I can pay someone else cheaply enough to do it for me. I see it as my small contribution social cohesion. If I do not pay the workman to do things for me, he will be out of work, his children will go hungry, he will turn to crime etc
14 - Of course, Dr M is the exact opposite. Which can be problematic at times. Such as now
15 - After the First Born's first adventure on two feet, Dr M suggested that we put up a stairgate. I say that we need to buy one first. Dr M tells me that she bought one months ago. So I say that we need to get someone to put it up. She asks me why I can;t do it myself. I pause, rejecting lame excuses and looking for the killer argument. Eventually, I tell her that I need a drill, to attach it to the wall, and we don't own one. Dr M tells me that, in anticipation of this argument, she bought a drill at the same time.
16 - So, armed with nails, screws, drill and stairgate, I go to work. I'll draw a veil of most of the proceedings, as they features a choice selection of four letter words, and a growing realisation that, as a man and home maker, I am thoroughly incompetent. Suffice it to say that the stairgate is hanging loosely and uselessly from the wall as we speak. I know that I should go back to it (and doubtlessly, I will be forced to after she reads this), but I just cannot face it right now. My fingers are still sore.
Explanation of the title for this blog - The Two Legs Bad - Four Legs Good cry comes from george Orwell's 'Animal Farm'. I was thinking about it last week for some really odd reason connected with a pigeon nesting i my windowbox and hatching two eggs in it. There is a connection, but it'll take too long to explain now. The other bit (Why I am not a Socialist) is self explanatory. I'm much more of a Michael Douglas 'Greed is Good' kinda fellow. Of course, Orwell had a difficult relationship with Socialism too, and it just seemed to fit.
Whatever. I'm off now. See you soon
The First Born is 7 months and a bit, has three (razor sharp) teeth and is asleep. For the moment.
They're 8 months old now and I don't know about yours, but mine is a climbaholic! She tried to climb herself right over the arm of the couch yesterday... crazy monkey!
alicia
Posted by: alicia r | August 20, 2007 at 01:22 PM
Marvelous entry. I'm a first time expecting father to be. Only found out mere days ago. Your post came up while searching first time father. I must say that I'm intrigued and educated. Bravo!
Posted by: Joe | October 02, 2007 at 07:47 AM
Marvelous entry. I'm a first time expecting father to be. Only found out mere days ago. Your post came up while searching first time father. I must say that I'm intrigued and educated. Bravo!
Posted by: Joe | October 02, 2007 at 07:47 AM
Thank you very much. Fatherhood is very rewarding. It's also very tiring. Best wishes to you and your partner :-)
Posted by: Firsttimefather | October 16, 2007 at 05:11 PM