The Boss and The Wiggles
One of the continuing joys of fatherhood is watching my son grow. His cooing and cawing are now taking on more concrete forms, and there is a personality forming. Our staff already call him 'Boss' and that accurately describes it. Axl loves having his way around us, but he is also good-copping, bad-copping us, meaning I am the only person in the house who will say 'no' to him. That won't change. He will have a father, not a personal biatch.
Then there is Wigglemania. The Wiggles are a band from Australia whose lyrics and music cater to children. You have to admire how they exploited that market. So far, we had music catering to blacks, whites, seniors, adults, babies, martians, you name it. Who ever thought about a rock band just for children? What has also contributed to their popularity is the fact that even adults can listen to them without making a mad dash for the bathroom to lose their lunch.
There is only so much you can do with children's songs, any parent can tell you. But after the third or fourth bar of Elmo’s World you want to reach for a gun to put yourself out of your misery, whereas with Barney the Dinosaur you positively want to put the entire world out of theirs. The Wiggles, of course, are four Australians – very big Australians, if you look at them – who drive around in their big red car, eat fruit salad, hang around with Dorothy the Dinosaur or Wags the Dog, among many other routines in their shtick. Granted, I’m not sure I want to hear a six and a half foot guy singing ‘I’m always picking Flowers’ or ‘I love it when it rains’ to my son, but hey. Our son will only say ‘car’, and it is perfectly clear that he wants to watch the Wiggles. Aside from that he doesn’t give a damn about TV.
Then there’s his perpetual request for the red-ass award. Ooh boy, does he have a temper. When I refused to let him have a specific toy at bath time a few evenings ago because it was time to wash his hair, he took off. He grabbed shampoo bottles and tossed them out of the bath, each bottle landing on the tiled floor with a resounding thud. Can’t quite be angry at that, because I know perfectly well where he got that from. Lord, on particularly bad days he can make John McEnroe look like Ghandi.
Another personality trait is his penchant for work. We have a plastic ramp at home that we use to race cars with. Now your average toddler will watch the cars race down the track, maybe see them flip over, and finally come to a halt somewhere in the playroom. This will be followed by a series of giggles or wide open eyes that just as easily could have witnessed the Indy 500.
Not this one.
He will position two cars in their respective slots, lift the toggle that releases the cars onto the track, and then immediately move on to pick up the next two cars before the other two have even completed their descent. He is like a machine, as if he is getting paid to do this. Something tells me this boy might not need a lot of motivation later in life. He is very specific about what he wants and won’t compromise. Once he's locked onto something - the other day it was about pulling a plug out of the sink - he will fight to defend what he is doing. Definitely a high maintenance child.
Then there is Wigglemania. The Wiggles are a band from Australia whose lyrics and music cater to children. You have to admire how they exploited that market. So far, we had music catering to blacks, whites, seniors, adults, babies, martians, you name it. Who ever thought about a rock band just for children? What has also contributed to their popularity is the fact that even adults can listen to them without making a mad dash for the bathroom to lose their lunch.
There is only so much you can do with children's songs, any parent can tell you. But after the third or fourth bar of Elmo’s World you want to reach for a gun to put yourself out of your misery, whereas with Barney the Dinosaur you positively want to put the entire world out of theirs. The Wiggles, of course, are four Australians – very big Australians, if you look at them – who drive around in their big red car, eat fruit salad, hang around with Dorothy the Dinosaur or Wags the Dog, among many other routines in their shtick. Granted, I’m not sure I want to hear a six and a half foot guy singing ‘I’m always picking Flowers’ or ‘I love it when it rains’ to my son, but hey. Our son will only say ‘car’, and it is perfectly clear that he wants to watch the Wiggles. Aside from that he doesn’t give a damn about TV.
Then there’s his perpetual request for the red-ass award. Ooh boy, does he have a temper. When I refused to let him have a specific toy at bath time a few evenings ago because it was time to wash his hair, he took off. He grabbed shampoo bottles and tossed them out of the bath, each bottle landing on the tiled floor with a resounding thud. Can’t quite be angry at that, because I know perfectly well where he got that from. Lord, on particularly bad days he can make John McEnroe look like Ghandi.
Another personality trait is his penchant for work. We have a plastic ramp at home that we use to race cars with. Now your average toddler will watch the cars race down the track, maybe see them flip over, and finally come to a halt somewhere in the playroom. This will be followed by a series of giggles or wide open eyes that just as easily could have witnessed the Indy 500.
Not this one.
He will position two cars in their respective slots, lift the toggle that releases the cars onto the track, and then immediately move on to pick up the next two cars before the other two have even completed their descent. He is like a machine, as if he is getting paid to do this. Something tells me this boy might not need a lot of motivation later in life. He is very specific about what he wants and won’t compromise. Once he's locked onto something - the other day it was about pulling a plug out of the sink - he will fight to defend what he is doing. Definitely a high maintenance child.
0 comments