Published July 9, 2006 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
By Aaron J. Brown
Summer traditions gain new meaning when you have to explain them to a tiny person who just recently learned that, though close to the ground, he is not a dog.
Yes, I’m going to spend another column talking about our son Henry. At 13 months (that’s right, I’m measuring time in months now) he is learning things faster than the velociraptors in “Jurassic Park.”
Baby columns, though tame, are a bit like writing columns about the proposed Constitutional Amendment banning flag desecration. People either jive with what you’re saying or they really, really don’t. The main difference is that babies are necessary to maintain the human race. Constitutional Amendments involving the flag, apple pie or the right of NASCAR to continue being totally awesome generally only maintain the Election Day hopes of those who propose them. Either way, every baby column I write appeases the parents in the area and bores the living daylights out of non-reproducing people (or as we parents call them, failures).
Henry just reached the age where he’s old enough to walk around and really look at stuff. This means I have to think of something to tell him when he appears confused by his surroundings, which is often. I don’t know how it is for others, but I feel a tremendous sense of pressure to think of profound things to tell him. If Henry holds up a toy chicken at a store, I feel the need to explain the nature of chickens. “Hey, buddy. That’s a chicken. It’s a domesticated farm bird. We had it for supper last night. Well, not that one. That one is plastic. Uh, yeah. Also, it goes ‘cluck, cluck.’”
We must also explain the things we grown ups do. July is the height of summer, a time of many traditions. Several summer traditions passed just last week during the Fourth of July long weekend. After a while we adults take things like street dances, parades and ice cream cones for granted. For most folks around here the very mention of the Fourth of July, along with the inevitable smattering of patriotic music, is enough to conjure a lifetime of seasonal memories. Little folks like Henry, however, don’t know these traditions. For them, and the British, the Fourth of July was just Tuesday.
We saved one major Independence Day tradition for next year. Henry is a guy on the go, so we passed on the chance to take him to one of the local parades. He’s too busy to sit that long and too “Weeble-like” to actually participate in the parade. It might have been OK if we still lived in town. Now we only make trips in from the country if we think there’s a good chance our child won’t spontaneously combust at the event in question.
We were also going to wait until next year for fireworks. Henry is usually in bed by the time most of the official city firework shows were scheduled. However, we hadn’t counted on the “amateur” fireworks displays that happened in our neighborhood (and probably every rural area that night). Every time a firework would “pop,” Henry would startle in his crib and the dog would bark while doing high-speed, wide-arc figure eights in the back yard. They both react this way to lightning, too. At some point we’ll have to explain the “Rockets’ red glare, bombs bursting in air” part of the equation, but right now Henry isn’t a big fan.
One tradition Henry did partake in was the traditional summer ice cream cone. Many gas stations offer ice cream cones in the summer, but none are quite like those at the Balsam Store out near our place. Henry had been skeptical of ice cream ever since his first hot fudge sundae a couple months earlier led to his first ice cream headache. But July 4 brought him back into the fold as he gobbled up ice cream like a true American.
I guess in summary we’ve learned that traditions are easier to sell to small children when tasty food is involved. We’re getting ready to explain the county fair to the boy next. I’m sure the cotton candy might help.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.