Life is full of little ironies. Parenting places a spotlight on these ironies on a nearly daily basis. This past week, I realized something about Little A that is adorable and fun to watch him do: he can bend himself into positions that are mind-boggling to me. Why so mind-boggling? Simple, I can’t put myself in those positions without some Advil and physical therapy.
For example, as he sits on his blue blanket laid open on the floor, he looks around at the television, the toys, and the pillows we’ve stacked around him just in case. I sit with him and try to guess which toy he’s going to get first. Will it be the John Deere train? Will it be the Disney train with Dumbo and Simba (yes, I’m tired of hearing the Lion King music regardless of how important music is). Or, will he throw the old man a curveball and reach for his play mat instead?
Thankfully, this isn’t a multiple choice test, because my little guy picked D: none of the above. Instead of the toys that roll, make noise and light up, he bends himself to a near horizontal position and eats his toes.
I’m envious of his flexibility. I’m envious of his little body’s ability to bend, squirm, and move in ways my 30-something limbs don’t even dream of doing anymore. I know, woe-is-me. The irony is in some ways, I wish I could do what he can do. Now, I have no desire to eat my toes, but what I would give to reach and touch my toes without pulling a hamstring. I believe to achieve this goal in my current state, I would need to implement a daily stretching regimen that I possess neither the time nor the patience for. I digress.
Needless to say, the little one is happy so I’m happy. What other little ironies can you think of?
The Dad In Me 