He's a Dick

I love my youngest son, very much. 

That's what you have to write so there is no confusion when you plan on writing a small little story about how he is also a dick. 

How can he be a complete peckerhead at 1 year old?  Easy, apparently. 

Again, I love Bacon Hoss very, very much. 

He apparently loves computer cords, especially the ones that are plugged in.  He loves them so very much.  He loves them so much that he wants to chew on them.  Then he wants to pull them out of the wall.  Then he wants to love the wall socket.  You wouldn't think that this little person could fit behind a couch that even the cat can't but you would be wrong. 

As much as he loves the computer cords, he hates the actual computer.  He can't stand that such a thing exists.  He hates email, he hates banking websites, he hates this very blog.  If I ever try to get on the computer while he is awake, anywhere in the house, he immediately makes a beeline for me.  If the computer is in my lap, he grabs whatever toy is available and attempts to break the key board.  The little man has quite a swing.  If the computer is on the counter, away from his fists of fury, he runs and grabs my pants legs and screams.  He wants to know why I am not plugging the computer in to where he can chew on it.  He doesn't think I am very accommodating. 

Sure, if you see him out and about, he's all smiles.  He's cute, he'll melt you with his little blue eyes and blond hair.  He may laugh a little bit at you.  He seems like he is so well behaved.  You'll see him walking in the store and not pulling on the shelves.  You will not see him scream and throw a fit.  You will not see him attempt to headbutt his father while he sits on my lap. 

But at home, he's a dick.  Away from public view he commonly tries to break my nose to the point where I wonder if I am in an abusive relationship.  He laughs as his head screams forward like a little maniacal Aryan.  Stupid blond hair.  He's drawn blood more than once.  There's never any warning just a blond flash of hair and wham, you're bleeding.   

If it's not my nose he's trying to break or a computer cord he wants to chew on, it's either the toilet or the stairs.  I have many other father friends with kids my son's age.  None try to climb stairs.  Dad says no, they look and then walk away.  My son, on the other hand, is pulling a little baby screw driver from his diaper and trying to pry lose the screws that hold our baby gate in place.  Yup, I've had to screw it right into the rails because he pulls himself up on it and screams like he's in a little baby Attica.  Unfortunately, the world does not come with baby gates in front of stairs.  If we are out and about, and no one is watching but me, he makes for the stairs.  Any stairs.  I'll stop him, he'll throw a fit unless someone is watching.  How does he know how to do this?  How can he play public opinion like a seasoned politician?  I have no idea and frankly, I'm kind of impressed. 

I'm less impressed when he tries to get into the toilet.  I wonder if he has some sort of death wish?  He loves toilets, he loves throwing things in toilets, he loves to put his hands in the toilet, he loves to watch me on the toilet.  It's creeping me out.  If the door is shut when I'm in the bathroom he throws a fit like you've never heard.  It's louder than he's ever screamed for anyone else but me.  He saves his good fits when we are just alone.  Half my day is spent peeing while standing on one leg and fending him off with the other.  I've tried to sneak around but he knows, good god somehow he knows.  And he knows that our downstairs bathroom door doesn't latch that well so if just a little bit of pressure is applied, the door pops open, stupid house.  He ninja strikes me so much that now I just naturally pee with one leg hanging in the air waiting to fight off the inevitable attack that I know is coming from someone that is about a foot tall.   

I try to remember if I've seen this kind of dickishness in my other children and I'm not sure.  Have I just forgotten it all?  Little Hoss could be tough, she would cry unless I was constantly moving around.  And she loves to break stuff, even as a baby.  Bacon does that too.  Bubba Hoss though was a pleasure, we would snuggle all day and all he wanted to do was play with Dad.  Bacon wants to play with dad, for blood. 

Which brings me to my last reason why my youngest is kind of a dick.  He woke up from his nap a bit early.  I was knee deep in dishes, ya know, so the family wouldn't live in filth and all that.  So I didn't immediately didn't run upstairs to get him from his crib.  5 minutes go by and I head up to get him.  He didn't sleep much, only an hour or so.  I open the door and I am greeted with my little blond boy.  My little blond boy with tons of blood running out of his mouth. 

Of course, I freak out.  He's screaming loud, very loud.  He's crying.  What the hell happened?  Why is he bleeding in his crib.  I rush to his side to pick him up.  He stops crying but the blood and spit are now mixed together and dripping on me. I don't much care, I'm worried like hell. 

He trys to headbutt me.  Again.  Then it clicks with what happened.  I open his mouth and check all his teeth, remembering which one's he has and which ones he doesn't.  I'm looking to see if he's knocked out a tooth.  He threw a fit in his crib.  When he throws fits he headbutts.  He's tall enough now that the edge of the crib is right at the level of his mouth.  He headbutted the crib edge with his mouth and I'm worried he's lost a tooth.  He's got them all, I think.  And then I find where the blood is coming from.  He cut the inside of his upper lip.  That had to hurt. 

This is his punishment for me.  Since I didn't come running immediately, he is trying to give me a heart attack.  I was pretty close.  I don't like to see my kids bleed.  I can handle blood but I have a tougher time handling when my kids are in pain. 

We sit on the couch, we turn on a little music which he loves.  He's quiet now and is lightly bouncing his head on my chest.  It's ok.  I would rather him headbutt me then something else, like the oven, while it's on, disconnecting it from the gas and then lighting a match.  He would do it.  I can take the headbutting, I can heal and isn't that what fathers are supposed to do?  Aren't we supposed to take the pain so our little ones don't have to?  He's my son and I love him. 

But I don't love going to the toilet anymore.  I'm just going to start using his diapers.