My Little Monster Man

My son is turning two soon - and truth be told, I'm amazed that he's made it this far.  Either he was going to kill himself, or I was going to do it for him.  Never in my life have I encountered such an enigma - a loving, loud, terrible, wonderful, cranky, hilarious entity that pulls my emotions in every direction.  I once described him to my lovely spouse like this:

"I didn't know you could hug a tornado."

You want to know something, though?  He's just like me.  He's funny (he's hysterical, actually).  He loves sports.  He stands with his hands on his knees during crucial moments of games that we are watching on TV.  He's a bit of a showoff, just like his old man.  I make fun of him (a lot) for being a little "off", or "simple" - I told my friends I envision his career path involving being shot out of a cannon. 

Whatever he will end up being, he'll do it full-on, because that's how he does EVERYTHING.  Meals are not eaten so much as they are attacked.  He doesn't drink his milk - he chugs it like Napoleon Dynamite after learning some dance moves.  Stairs are not climbed - they are assaulted.  I admire him for not doing anything half-assed - he is full-assed from the moment he wakes up.  Even sleeping is approached with hair on fire mentality - he doesn't toss and turn, and lie awake for hours like I do.  He'll hit the mattress and be asleep before the sheets stop rustling.

My boy makes me shake my head every day - sometimes in wonderment, and sometimes in a "maybe the nurses mixed him up with another baby at the hospital" type way.  At church, we've had to leave before Father Shane could even make it down the aisle.  I've said the words "Please God - fix my son" more than any others in the past 24 months. 

Once, my sister-in-law watched him for a few hours and remarked "He's going to be a gymnast, I think."  Apparently he attempted approximately 629 somersaults in the three hours they spent together.  Hey - as long as it knocks whatever it is that makes him the way it is back into place, I'm all for it.

But - there is part of me that misses my baby boy, too.  He was a cuddler - much more so than his sister.  He still is, actually.  Every morning, he requires a shoulder to lay his head on when he gets out of the crib (the cheese-eating surrender monkey of child containment, by the way) - and he'll stay there for 5-10 minutes, and it's the BEST part of my day, bar none.  It seems like he went from womb to walking in 20 minutes - I barely remember infant Z-man. 

Still - I can't wait to see what he becomes.  He's a good looking kid (thank you, my wife's genes), and he's got some brains to him, too - now if we can only steer him to work for the powers of good, the world will be a better place.  I hear other dads talk about their sons in sports, or school, and wonder what will become of my little monster man.  I call him "Bad News" as a term of endearment - but he's one of the best things in my life.