Hell Bent For Leather
Henry is like an adventure video game. How so, you ask? Well, whenever you get a new video game and start playing, you invariably get to a point where you can go no further. You just can’t get the timing down right or you always forget that the ogre is behind the middle door. So you go back and play it again and again and again until you get past that specific part.
And then, you never bother to play that section again. You’re onto the next battle (this time, you have to remember to jump, jump, duck, shoot your arrow, jump, and then grab the gem; you always forget to that last jump after the arrow).
Henry’s life is his video game, and he’ll spend countless hours trying to do something, trying to figure it out. First it was sticking out his tongue when you do; after he mastered that, his tongue has, for the most part, stayed in his mouth. Then there was pulling off his socks. Once he figured it out and pulled them off a few times, he’s figured it’s no longer a big deal and the socks stay on.
And so on and so on and so on. Everything is new for Henry, and he wisely doesn’t look in the past.
The same has gone for rolling over. For about a month, he was so close. He’d arch his back, roll his hips, and then… nothing. Or he’d whip his leg over and just expect the rest of him to go along.
And then magic. He was able to do it and for a couple of days all he did was roll. He even rolled from back to stomach (which is more difficult). Then, however, he got bored. Rolling had lost its luster. It became that thing he did when he was a baby and not now that he’s a… well, a baby that’s a week older. He’ll roll now, but you really have to work him up to it.
He had better not use this excuse for his math homework 15 years from now. “But dad, differential equations were so last week.”
February 16th, 2009 at 6:17 pm
I jus’ love them douggies