Ian’s a very generous boy. If you hold out your hand, he’ll give you anything he has: toy, book, soggy cracker, nailgun.
A couple weeks ago, I spied on Ian during the first few minutes of church nursery. He was playing by himself as a little girl, about his age, sat next to him. He looked up, expectantly, but all she did was stare. He went back to playing, and she continued to stare. Eventually the awkwardness of the situation proved too much for Ian, and he waved a toy in her general direction. “Owo da?”
He’s got a way with the ladies.
Quite often he’ll just give something out of the goodness of his heart. If it’s something to do with his mouth, he’ll skip the middle man and stick it in yours. The first time this happened, I was ever so surprised to find myself sucking on Ian’s pacifier as I buckled his seatbelt.
Last night, Ian was playing with [chewing on] a deck of cards. I thought we’d finished our game of Go Fish, but he dealt another hand and stuck the Queen of Diamonds in my mouth. Like any good father, I took the card between my teeth, and, growling, shook my head back and forth. After squealing and changing suit a few times, Ian clamped on the other side and there we were, father and son, like two dogs fighting over a bone.
Fatherhood is the coolest thing I’ve ever done.
p.s. Ian is officially walking. Kelly and I have established a DMZ three feet above everything in our house, and the cats have been ordered to evacuate.