Shaping a Young Mind

Okay, I’m weird.

I’m well aware of my quirks. While they often make me uncomfortable in social situations, I believe it’s what makes me different. My wife finds my strange behavior endearing, though sometimes (I’m guessing) annoying. The truth is, breaking into spontaneous song, making strange faces and noises and other Tourettes-like behavior of mine began well before there was a baby in the house.

My growing fear is that my boy will be raised in an environment where everything his kooky father does is normal, and everybody else is strange.

Will he be disappointed when he finds out that not all people have the ability to sing a perfect rendition of the “Figaro” opera without actually knowing any of the words? (Everything I know about opera, I learned from Tom and Jerry).

Is his growing brain being shaped in a way where he thinks that all people make strange faces and noises like me? Sure, people make baby sounds and faces at him now, but that will all end by the time he reaches his tweener years. I’m not sure that I’ll ever stop doing it.

On the way to daycare each morning, I like to talk to him to let him know I’m in the car with him.

“Hey, baby. I see you back there checking yourself out in the mirror. Are you having a good hair day? Remember, your hair is your strength. All those bald babies out there envy you and your flowing mane.”

“Look, there’s an old lady taking out her trash in a housecoat. I don’t care how old you are, there’s always comedy in that. Respect your elders, boy. But when your elders reach housecoat age, point and laugh at them.”

“Son, I think you could drive a car better than the dimwit that just turned left in front of us. Maybe some day when you’re older, I can teach you road rage.”

Right now, this all sounds like gibberish to him. Soon, he will actually begin to comprehend what I’m saying, and I’ll have to seriously consider choosing my words more carefully. It might take a few years for him to develop a sense of irony and a healthy helping of cynicism. He may not be able to determine when I’m trying to be funny and when I’m being serious.

If I don’t tread carefully, I can foresee some pretty serious public embarrassment coming our way (and his mother doesn’t deserve that).