A Greatest Hit from MySpace….March 12, 2007
THIS is the fun part.
My son arrived eight days late. To have your baby arrive after his due date is a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I did not get my “get out of jail free” card….I did the full Monty and then some. The hospital staff would not consider inducing me ’till a week past my due date. But what does this have to do with the fun part?
In my frustration, I used to talk to the little person in my stomach, saying, “Come out! It’s more fun on the outside, kid!” Then he was born, and he had colic. And he would scream while I struggled with his diaper. And I would say, “Honey, this is not the fun part, is it? I know, Mommy promised it would be fun out here. I’m sorry.”
Well, we’ve finally reached the fun part.
My son is fourteen months old now, and he’s getting more fun all the time. Throwing balls, babbling, crawling at lightning speed—and now walking, hands up like Boris Karloff. Even the Nugget War was fun—in a manner of speaking.
I’d had the flu all week, and knew I’d have no energy to cook after delivering magazines all day on Thursday. So I picked my son up from the sitter and went straight to the drive-thru. Back home, he picked up a chicken nugget from the coffee table and took a bite, like he has so many other times. I turned my attention to my sandwich, confident he could take care of his own hunger. I looked up, and saw what I can only call a “Charlie Brown”—chicken nugget stuffed whole, lengthwise, in his mouth.
“Honey, that’s too much.” I poked the still-visible nugget with my finger. My son giggled. I poked a little harder, trying to dislodge the nugget. He started to protest. I feared he’d try to swallow and lodge the nugget in his throat. I put my finger in at the side, and he bit down. “AA-OW!” he cried louder. He was frightened by the nugget’s larger-than-life presence, but held onto it doggedly. Did he think it was the last piece of food on earth? I started chipping at the nugget with my finger, choking paranoia mounting. Finally I got the whole mangled nugget out, but the child was still howling. Took me five minutes to get him calmed down. I ate my sandwich with one hand while I cut up the remaining nuggets with a butter knife. He watched TV solemnly, munching french fries one by one.
My determined, stubborn, hungry little person. What a fuss over a nugget. How quickly forgotten and forgiven. “Someday you’ll be big, and that will be a fun part, too. But I’ll always remember when you were small.”