Daddy’s Dilemma

I find it ironic that I always long for the next stage of Quincy’s life and when I get it, I really wish I had not complained about the last. Do you know what I’m talking about? When you want them to stop doing X to start doing Y. Let me explain:

Stage 1: “I Can’t Wait Until Quincy Starts Crawling”

he moment Quincy became mobile he made it clear that he was going to do some serious damage. But naïve me didn’t heed the warning signs. I wanted that – a mobile baby so I didn’t have to carry him everywhere. I should have watched what I wished for! Before I knew it he was pulling DVDs from under the entertainment stand, flipping trash cans, yanking computer cords and tossing shoes. I longed for the immobile days to come back.

Stage 2: “I Can’t Wait Until Quincy Can Walk”

I wanted him to walk so badly so I wouldn’t have to carry him everywhere he couldn’t crawl. But what I didn’t realize is that now he can grab stuff off of my desk and high tail it out of the room before I can get him. He can open those DVD and CD cases he used to throw and he can smudge the disks. He can climb on chairs and close my browser in the middle of an important e-mail. He can get on top of the table and empty full glasses to the tune of “uh-oh.” Plus he can go up and down stairs and turn off the power strip while my wife is invoicing government clients. And the funny thing is, he likes to taunt me when he does it. He’ll look back and laugh then run, expecting the chase and loving every minute of it. I thank God he can walk, but I sure wish he would stroll into his play area and enjoy his toys.

Stage 3: “I Can’t Wait Until Quincy Can Talk”

I talked to a few of my guy friends who have wives and kids about the incessant screaming of inaudible toddlers. I asked, “Is it me or does the crying child bring you to your knees?” They agreed and sympathized. Their kids can speak now, but mine is still pointing and grunting. But they both said the very thing I also observed. Their wives were immune it. Hearing Quincy wail is like seeing the Bat signal for my wife. She feels stronger and must meet the needs of the ailing baby. For me, it’s like green kryptonite. Saps every ounce of strength I have and the longer I’m exposed to it, the more unglued I become.

Plus, my wife can decipher all of the cries. Quincy will holler to the top of his lungs and she’ll look at her cell phone clock and say, “Honey, can you get him something to eat?” And the minute I do, he stops. I have no Idea how she does that. I hear a blood –curdling scream that‘s like a two-foot tall snoozeless alarm clock on two legs and she hears “I’m tired” or “I need a diaper change.” And she’s dead on! How she does it, I may never know. It’s like she has a mutant power like Professor X or something. And though I’m going to regret it again, somewhat, I want Quincy to talk because the screams are killing me.

Chris