Monday, July 30, 2007

Gideon's Second Birthday

Gideon Lewis Tyree turned two years old on March 6 and celebrated with a party at CiCi’s Pizza in Columbia, Tennessee.

Gideon appreciated the “Thomas The Tank Engine” theme; but in general he was distracted and unwilling to count to five in Spanish, chirp “Come on, baby, let’s do the twist,” or otherwise perform on command. I think he kept waiting for the restaurant TV to show his favorite commercial: the one in which orange traffic cones come to life and chase a Toyota. He could watch it 20 times in a row. It was a rather traumatic day in his young life when he discovered that “CSI” doesn’t stand for “Cone Shenanigans Investigations.”

Gideon didn’t even launch into his morning routine of telling us about seeing elephants. Those pachyderm events have convinced us that (a) Gideon is having a vivid dream life or (b) we need to start paying the exterminator a whole lot more.

With just a little help, Gideon was able to extinguish his candles. Soon enough the highlight of his birthdays will shift from “blow out the candles” to “turn your head and cough.”

Gideon certainly toddles to the beat of a different drum. Most kids would rip into their gifts with gusto. Gideon meticulously tore off one little square of wrapping paper at a time and watched it flutter into the gift bag. If Oliver North did such a painstaking job of shredding documents, he’d still be working on Iran-Contra. (“Just a few more papers, Fawn, and President Reagan will be spared going to jail. Huh??? Reagan did what??? Awww, and I didn’t even send flowers!”)

Gideon enjoyed his Sesame Street dictionary, his shopping cart, and all the other gifts. He received the regular “Bob The Builder” toys for innocent toddlers. In a few more years, he can work his way up to the more cynical version. (“Can we build it? Yes, we can – if we grease enough palms at the building codes office.”)

Gideon is thrilled with the racecar bed that his babysitter gave him. He probably thinks he’s the only boy in the world with such a bed. Later on, I’ll explain to him that lots of people sleep in their cars. According to the Census Bureau, they’re classified as Parents Who Charged One Too Many Toys For Their Kids.

I enjoyed the party, but my biggest regret was that Gideon’s long, curly locks had been shorn just in time for the event. As someone who lives vicariously through his son’s ability to keep his dome covered, I don’t take a lot of comfort in the well-wishers who say, “Now he looks like a little boy!” Somehow I doubt that having a few curls is going to make him the star of “Brokeback Sandbox.”

Friends, relatives, and total strangers have greeted Gideon’s milestone with dire warnings about “the terrible twos.” There are two different philosophies about “the terrible twos.” To some, the designation is a stereotype, the moral equivalent of racial profiling. To others, seeing their little angels suddenly start acting up is God’s way of saying, “Ha! Maybe next time you’ll buy the extended warranty, smart guy!”

Melissa and I put a lot of work into Gideon’s birthday, but he’ll never really know just how much we love him – until he has a two-year-old bundle of joy of his own.

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