In honor of the first birthday of Son #2, I’ve decided to discuss the childhood development of this aforementioned child (or maybe it’s the lack of development). Don’t get me wrong here; he’s a fantastic, but defiant kid. He seems to have his own schedule on when and how things are accomplished. I can only wait to see what he’s like in high school and college with this “I’ll do it when I’m ready” view on life.


While I’m not a believer in the second child phenomenon, I think that some of Son #2’s development has been a result of my wife and me not artificially coercing him. Son #1 was in daycare at the current age of Son #2. Because all of the kids were mobile, he wasted no time in figuring out that there was Darwinist stimuli in the classroom. A lack of mobility meant he was late to the snack table and snacks were a huge motivator. Likewise, food is a huge motivator for Son #2. However, the difference is that Son #2 is at home and not in daycare. There’s no “Ya, I took your snack. So what are you going to do about it?” I like to pretend that Son #1 had to fight to survive. It’s much easier for Son #2.

Son #2 has an interesting position on mobility. “Why move when you will move me?” He’ll crawl when it’s a matter of urgency. Crawling in a classical sense doesn’t apply. It’s really more of a ‘dragging’ activity with the occasional erratic kick of a leg to propel him further. In all of this, I don’t know why this really comes as a surprise to me and my wife. The damn kid has pretty much set his own pace since he was born. As a matter of fact, he was born on his own schedule and not his due date. This should’ve been a shot across the proverbial bow that Son #2 was doing things his way.

Another example of Son #2’s self-fashioned schedule of development is the manner in which he eats. Now I hesitate to say that my wife and I may be culpable for the preference of method which he consumes sustenance. It seemed like in the early months we could’ve been more deliberate about making Son #2 take a bottle. In his relatively short existence, he has successfully ingested two complete bottles of milk. Two. He decided early on, with our lack of bottle delivery emphasis, that he’d only feed in two ways; by his mother or by his hand. The first is obvious and has taken months to untie this insatiable need to connect with his mother. The second, which is more interesting, is his need to use his prehensile extremities in an unorthodox method of feeding.

Son #2 did not only skip (read: refuse) the bottle phase, but he also skipped (read: refused) the baby food phase. Admittedly, we tried harder with baby food than the bottle. But ultimately, He vetoed our actions with defiance. Not only did he not like eating baby food, he disapproved of eating from the spoon. This resulted in a scream, a spasmodic head movement, and the infantile plastic ware toss. So Mommy and Daddy had to learn; let Son #2 eat with his hands. The interesting thing was that it was not only about the method of nourishment delivery but also the nourishment itself. He didn’t want baby food, he wanted our food. For the last six months, we make meals in accordance with what Son #2 can eat with his hands. He enjoys bananas, meat, pizza, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pasta of any variety, bananas, waffles, tortillas, toast, eggs, fruit, crackers, avocado, and bananas. Did I mention he likes bananas?

Never show a banana to Son #2 unless you’re ready to let him devour it. Otherwise, his air raid siren like howl will sound in displeasure. If there’s a banana in the room, house, neighborhood, or city, he’ll find it. There are infrared and heat seeking weapons manufactured by my employer, but I’m certain that if we could channel his banana-sensing abilities in a smart technology format, we could license it the U.S. Government, develop a new homing technology, and find the latest terror cell, or at least find a banana crop in South America. We have learned that if you give him the whole thing, he will put the entire banana in his mouth. He’s like a human banana blender. But to successfully forego choking on the mushiness, we give him half at a time.


Today is Son #2’s first birthday. Unfortunately, no celebrating for me as I get to enjoy the consumption of the finest beverage in the form of chilled PEG-3350. That’s pretty much antifreeze. Son #2 was a miracle child that we were never expected to have. Psychologically, we began to accept that there wouldn’t be a second child. It took me well over a year to get it through my thick skull. At the point of acceptance, my wife had an appointment to begin medical improvements on her health only to find out she was pregnant. I can vividly remember the tears of that day. Son #1 and I sat in the waiting room of the women’s clinic playing cars, when my wife emerged crying. Son #1 asked at the top of his lungs the reasons for her tears. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out but we had to remove ourselves from the public eye so the information could be fully disclosed. Although unexpected and unfounded, Son #2 was miraculously growing in my wife.

Unexpected and difficult, that’s Son #2’s modus operandi. Adjusting to the surprise news, having another little boy, dealing with the demanding new mouth to feed, and handling all of the changes has led us through a new chapter of lessons. This year has been a journey. Happy birthday!