The Story About the Toddler, Volume 7.

The Story About the Toddler, Volume 7.
by Jeff Vogel

Cordelia, the nineteen month old toddler to which I provide moderate-quality
parenting care, continues to learn to think.

For example, the other day, she got the Teletubbies DVD out of the case and
into the DVD player all by herself. I had to hit Play for her, but she'll
figure that out soon enough. Once she has that down, she will basically be able
to raise herself.

She is figuring out 50% of how everything works. She understands 50% of how
keys work, so she likes to try to unlock the car door with a piece of gravel.
She understands 50% of what a trash can is for, so she gathers random objects
around the house and throws them away. She understand 50% of the concept of
socks. When her feet are cold, she grabs a sock, holds it next to her foot, and
waits for it to magically come to life and climb on.

She can almost climb down stairs, an achievement which, on the list of things
I look forward to, is up there with toilet-training, learning to read, and
leaving for college. The sooner she can handle stairs, the sooner we can get
rid of our baby gates. I swear, those gates are going to make me break my
****ing skull open any day now.

* Then My Wife Threw Me To the Wolves

At the beginning of the month, I went to New York for a week to see old
friends. It was the very best sort of trip: the baby stayed behind. Mariann
looked after her.

After I got back, to make up for my absence, I tried helping out extra around
the house, watching the baby more, and so on. Unfortunately, there is only one
thing that can pay back for a week of baby-sitting: a week of baby-sitting. So
Mariann went away and I got left looking after the baby for a week. For the
first time, just me. And her.

The first thing this experience taught me is that Cordelia is a pragmatic
little girl. When mommy is around, I am beneath notice. But the moment mommy
left, her beloved daughter whimpered for about ten seconds and then instantly
transferred all affection to me. The moment mommy was back, I was a giant
craplog again.

From an infant psychology perspective, this behavior makes sense. Cordelia has
not yet attained what is called "ego differentiation." In other words, she
doesn't yet know that all those big pink or brown things moving around her are
also people, sort of like her. To Cordelia, Mariann and I are basically tools,
like a hammer or a wheelbarrow, but operated by shouting.

So I got to spend a week as her favored tool. When she wanted something, she
would run up to me, fling her arms around my legs, and look up at me
pleadingly. It gave me that head rush of pure, Godlike power that is one of the
best reasons to become a parent. It was enough to make up for my stumbling
through the week like a tired, dazed and confused, freshly castrated half-man.

* And Yet, Sadly, I Lived

The other thing I learned is that being the single parent of a toddler
desperately limits your activities. I found out about this when I tried to get
some porn.

I know, I know. I could easily have gotten some on the Internet. But I just
can't get my head around that. I'm an old fashioned kind of guy, and I want my
adult entertainment the way they got it in the good old days: on DVD.

And yet, renting porn with a baby is impossible. I can't leave her sitting
alone in the video store while I slink into the little, curtained back room,
and if I haul her in there with me I'm going to get arrested. Order by mail was
out, because some things just can't wait 4-6 weeks for delivery.

I suppose I could have asked people passing on the street to go in and pick
something for me. It would be an interesting way to make friends. However, my
tastes in these matters are somewhat unique and particular, and they might be
horrifying to the average person on the street.

Eventually, I found a DVD store with a friendly setup. The adult DVDs were in
the corner, placed in such a way that I could turn Cordelia to face some
cartoons and other things that wouldn't scar her for life. So far, so good.

But of course, when I took my selection to the counter, the cashier was this
nice woman who refused to help me until she'd had a nice quality moment with my
daughter. Waving. Giggling. "Oh, she's so cute." All that ****. Then she looked
at what I was buying, and she gave the The Look.

There are times in life when you wish that the Earth would just open up under
you, so that you would fall into the molten center of the planet and instantly
be ground into a red mist by massive shards of red-hot rock. Alas, this never
happens. And I couldn't even wish for that because, if I did, who would look
after Cordelia? Miss DVD saleswoman tight-ass? I think not.

The simple truth is this: nobody in this life needs porn more than Fathers.
Porn is the only thing that makes Daddyhood work. Men shouldn't get ties on
Father's Day, they should get Hustler. When I walked into that DVD store with
my kid, I shouldn't have had to go searching. That saleswoman should have
looked at me, instantly appraised my situation, and offered me a little video
something "to take the edge off."

* Other Events That Took Place While Parenting Without a Net

I put Cordelia in a stroller on a slight incline. She managed to tip the thing
over. The resulting ugly scabs on her cheek kept any of my friends from ever
asking me how things were going without my wife.

One afternoon, I found Cordelia carefully gathering up the dust on a shelf and
eating it. I tried offering her food, but she wasn't hungry. She just wanted to
eat the dust. Sometimes I think watching toddlers do incomprehensible **** like
this is the only pleasure in raising them.

I gave Cordelia a bath for the first time. I wouldn't have handled pure
uranium more awkwardly.

Taking her for a walk every day, I finally found the local park where the hot
moms hang out. This is the place where the moms lounge around pleasingly in
bikinis while their kids run in circles and eat sand. I'm not sure if they want
dads to bring their kids there. If I had any soul left at all, I might give a
****.

* Some Whining

I was truly surprised by how exhausting a week looking after a toddler is. It
really made me jealous of women, who are genetically gifted with the ability to
tirelessly spend countless hours raising small children without complaint. I am
not sure how they do it. I imagine the womb secretes some sort of strengthening
chemical. I feel that the right to vote is too small a price to pay for their
invaluable assistance in this regard.

When I expressed these sentiments to my wife, however, she used her Tae Kwon
Do training to do something to my wrist which was actually quite painful. I am
not sure why she did this. I believe that her natural womanly modesty made her
uncomfortable to be complimented in such a way. From now on, I will be sure to
admire her silently, trying to keep at least a yard between me and her at all
times.

* Our Little Darling's First Kill

It took some work, but Mariann managed to teach Cordelia to stomp on ants. I
saw my little girl's first attempt. She jabbed her foot at it again and again,
delivering dozens of poorly aimed, ineffectual blows. I am sure that no ant was
ever so slow in dying. Cordelia didn't even kill it. She just crushed it and
left it for dead, twitching feebly, ant juices slowly running out of its
shattered carapace.

I imagine I've just ****ed off some vegan, PETA sob-sister reading this,
mourning the horrible demise of that poor ant. Well, let me tell you something.
This family is strictly, totally anti-ant. Ants are the enemy. They are slain
without mercy. I would use them for medical experiments. I would test shampoo
and mascara on their little antennae if I could. You got a problem with that?
You gonna' bring me down for my anti-ant stance? BRING IT ON, BITCH!!!

This country is trying, in fits and starts, to get an Empire together.
Eventually, we're going to need to harvest huge numbers of our young and send
them to hot, sandy places to direct traffic and dodge prepubescents with
dynamite strapped to their chests. We need to toughen our kids the **** up.
And, until Cordelia is old enough to eat veal and really appreciate what that
means, ants will have to do.

* Respecting Toddler Privacy

I am often asked if I think writing this somehow violates Cordelia's privacy.
The answer is no. I don't say anything about her that is not true for pretty
much every child. All children cry, all children squish bugs, and all children
SHOULD squish bugs. There are some thing she has done that I feel could be
considered private, and I have not written about them, even when they were
funny.

For example, while I was changing her diaper the other day, she did this
thing. Because it is personal and private, I will not describe what she did.
But, suffice it to say, it was horrible. No, beyond horrible. It was ghastly
enough to bring one's own view of life into question, to make one question not
just one's desire to become a parent, but one's desire to continue to exist in
a world where that sort of thing could happen.

The next time I changed her, she did it again.

But I won't say what it is, not only out of respect for Cordelia's privacy and
your sanity, but because I believe that describing certain acts gives them
power over me. I will deal with this the same way I dealt with the bulk of my
adolescence: by pretending it is not happening.

###

(All 40000 previous installments can be read at http://www.ironycentral.com.
Copyright 2003, Jeff Vogel.)


- Jeff Vogel
Spiderweb Software, Inc.
Award-winning fantasy role-playing games for Windows and Macintosh.
http://www.spiderwebsoftware.com

that is kind of funny and scary at the same time...


"Spiderweb Software" wrote in message
...
The Story About the Toddler, Volume 7.
by Jeff Vogel

Cordelia, the nineteen month old toddler to which I provide
moderate-quality
parenting care, continues to learn to think.

For example, the other day, she got the Teletubbies DVD out of the case
and
into the DVD player all by herself. I had to hit Play for her, but she'll
figure that out soon enough. Once she has that down, she will basically be
able
to raise herself.

She is figuring out 50% of how everything works. She understands 50% of
how
keys work, so she likes to try to unlock the car door with a piece of
gravel.
She understands 50% of what a trash can is for, so she gathers random
objects
around the house and throws them away. She understand 50% of the concept
of
socks. When her feet are cold, she grabs a sock, holds it next to her
foot, and
waits for it to magically come to life and climb on.

She can almost climb down stairs, an achievement which, on the list of
things
I look forward to, is up there with toilet-training, learning to read, and
leaving for college. The sooner she can handle stairs, the sooner we can
get
rid of our baby gates. I swear, those gates are going to make me break my
****ing skull open any day now.

* Then My Wife Threw Me To the Wolves

At the beginning of the month, I went to New York for a week to see old
friends. It was the very best sort of trip: the baby stayed behind.
Mariann
looked after her.

After I got back, to make up for my absence, I tried helping out extra
around
the house, watching the baby more, and so on. Unfortunately, there is only
one
thing that can pay back for a week of baby-sitting: a week of
baby-sitting. So
Mariann went away and I got left looking after the baby for a week. For
the
first time, just me. And her.

The first thing this experience taught me is that Cordelia is a pragmatic
little girl. When mommy is around, I am beneath notice. But the moment
mommy
left, her beloved daughter whimpered for about ten seconds and then
instantly
transferred all affection to me. The moment mommy was back, I was a giant
craplog again.

From an infant psychology perspective, this behavior makes sense. Cordelia
has
not yet attained what is called "ego differentiation." In other words, she
doesn't yet know that all those big pink or brown things moving around her
are
also people, sort of like her. To Cordelia, Mariann and I are basically
tools,
like a hammer or a wheelbarrow, but operated by shouting.

So I got to spend a week as her favored tool. When she wanted something,
she
would run up to me, fling her arms around my legs, and look up at me
pleadingly. It gave me that head rush of pure, Godlike power that is one
of the
best reasons to become a parent. It was enough to make up for my stumbling
through the week like a tired, dazed and confused, freshly castrated
half-man.

* And Yet, Sadly, I Lived

The other thing I learned is that being the single parent of a toddler
desperately limits your activities. I found out about this when I tried to
get
some porn.

I know, I know. I could easily have gotten some on the Internet. But I
just
can't get my head around that. I'm an old fashioned kind of guy, and I
want my
adult entertainment the way they got it in the good old days: on DVD.

And yet, renting porn with a baby is impossible. I can't leave her sitting
alone in the video store while I slink into the little, curtained back
room,
and if I haul her in there with me I'm going to get arrested. Order by
mail was
out, because some things just can't wait 4-6 weeks for delivery.

I suppose I could have asked people passing on the street to go in and
pick
something for me. It would be an interesting way to make friends. However,
my
tastes in these matters are somewhat unique and particular, and they might
be
horrifying to the average person on the street.

Eventually, I found a DVD store with a friendly setup. The adult DVDs were
in
the corner, placed in such a way that I could turn Cordelia to face some
cartoons and other things that wouldn't scar her for life. So far, so
good.

But of course, when I took my selection to the counter, the cashier was
this
nice woman who refused to help me until she'd had a nice quality moment
with my
daughter. Waving. Giggling. "Oh, she's so cute." All that ****. Then she
looked
at what I was buying, and she gave the The Look.

There are times in life when you wish that the Earth would just open up
under
you, so that you would fall into the molten center of the planet and
instantly
be ground into a red mist by massive shards of red-hot rock. Alas, this
never
happens. And I couldn't even wish for that because, if I did, who would
look
after Cordelia? Miss DVD saleswoman tight-ass? I think not.

The simple truth is this: nobody in this life needs porn more than
Fathers.
Porn is the only thing that makes Daddyhood work. Men shouldn't get ties
on
Father's Day, they should get Hustler. When I walked into that DVD store
with
my kid, I shouldn't have had to go searching. That saleswoman should have
looked at me, instantly appraised my situation, and offered me a little
video
something "to take the edge off."

* Other Events That Took Place While Parenting Without a Net

I put Cordelia in a stroller on a slight incline. She managed to tip the
thing
over. The resulting ugly scabs on her cheek kept any of my friends from
ever
asking me how things were going without my wife.

One afternoon, I found Cordelia carefully gathering up the dust on a shelf
and
eating it. I tried offering her food, but she wasn't hungry. She just
wanted to
eat the dust. Sometimes I think watching toddlers do incomprehensible ****
like
this is the only pleasure in raising them.

I gave Cordelia a bath for the first time. I wouldn't have handled pure
uranium more awkwardly.

Taking her for a walk every day, I finally found the local park where the
hot
moms hang out. This is the place where the moms lounge around pleasingly
in
bikinis while their kids run in circles and eat sand. I'm not sure if they
want
dads to bring their kids there. If I had any soul left at all, I might
give a
****.

* Some Whining

I was truly surprised by how exhausting a week looking after a toddler is.
It
really made me jealous of women, who are genetically gifted with the
ability to
tirelessly spend countless hours raising small children without complaint.
I am
not sure how they do it. I imagine the womb secretes some sort of
strengthening
chemical. I feel that the right to vote is too small a price to pay for
their
invaluable assistance in this regard.

When I expressed these sentiments to my wife, however, she used her Tae
Kwon
Do training to do something to my wrist which was actually quite painful.
I am
not sure why she did this. I believe that her natural womanly modesty made
her
uncomfortable to be complimented in such a way. From now on, I will be
sure to
admire her silently, trying to keep at least a yard between me and her at
all
times.

* Our Little Darling's First Kill

It took some work, but Mariann managed to teach Cordelia to stomp on ants.
I
saw my little girl's first attempt. She jabbed her foot at it again and
again,
delivering dozens of poorly aimed, ineffectual blows. I am sure that no
ant was
ever so slow in dying. Cordelia didn't even kill it. She just crushed it
and
left it for dead, twitching feebly, ant juices slowly running out of its
shattered carapace.

I imagine I've just ****ed off some vegan, PETA sob-sister reading this,
mourning the horrible demise of that poor ant. Well, let me tell you
something.
This family is strictly, totally anti-ant. Ants are the enemy. They are
slain
without mercy. I would use them for medical experiments. I would test
shampoo
and mascara on their little antennae if I could. You got a problem with
that?
You gonna' bring me down for my anti-ant stance? BRING IT ON, BITCH!!!

This country is trying, in fits and starts, to get an Empire together.
Eventually, we're going to need to harvest huge numbers of our young and
send
them to hot, sandy places to direct traffic and dodge prepubescents with
dynamite strapped to their chests. We need to toughen our kids the ****
up.
And, until Cordelia is old enough to eat veal and really appreciate what
that
means, ants will have to do.

* Respecting Toddler Privacy

I am often asked if I think writing this somehow violates Cordelia's
privacy.
The answer is no. I don't say anything about her that is not true for
pretty
much every child. All children cry, all children squish bugs, and all
children
SHOULD squish bugs. There are some thing she has done that I feel could be
considered private, and I have not written about them, even when they were
funny.

For example, while I was changing her diaper the other day, she did this
thing. Because it is personal and private, I will not describe what she
did.
But, suffice it to say, it was horrible. No, beyond horrible. It was
ghastly
enough to bring one's own view of life into question, to make one question
not
just one's desire to become a parent, but one's desire to continue to
exist in
a world where that sort of thing could happen.

The next time I changed her, she did it again.

But I won't say what it is, not only out of respect for Cordelia's privacy
and
your sanity, but because I believe that describing certain acts gives them
power over me. I will deal with this the same way I dealt with the bulk of
my
adolescence: by pretending it is not happening.

###

(All 40000 previous installments can be read at
http://www.ironycentral.com.
Copyright 2003, Jeff Vogel.)


- Jeff Vogel
Spiderweb Software, Inc.
Award-winning fantasy role-playing games for Windows and Macintosh.
http://www.spiderwebsoftware.com

"Spiderweb Software" wrote in message

* Some Whining

I was truly surprised by how exhausting a week looking after a toddler is.
It
really made me jealous of women, who are genetically gifted with the
ability to
tirelessly spend countless hours raising small children without complaint.

Tirelessly? Not so fast, Jeff. If that were true, you probably wouldn't need
the porn!
--
Marnie
--