Running Behind

The biggest surprise for The Common Man, over the past month, is just how many interesting things there are in this house for The Boy to get into. Picture frames, drapes, pets, pet toys, pet food, surge protectors (or cords of any kind), books, papers. Virtually anything and everything is remarkably interesting to the average eight-month old once he gets crawling. And since The Boy is not the average eight-month old, he’s interested in even more than that.

Anyway, The Common Man has resumed his “training,” getting back on the elliptical machine in hopes that he will be able to keep up with his motoring little son. So far, so good, but The Common Man suspects that his success will only last as long as The Boy confines his movement to dragging himself, like a Navy SEAL in training worming his way under barbed wire, across the floor. Once he walks, The Common Man is afraid that The Boy will need to be strapped to a gurney at all times for his own safety. For who can keep up with anything that moves so fast?

Well, perhaps Al Gore III could. Now, The Common Man does not wish to appear to endorse AG3’s apparent excess of prescription drugs, partying, and speeding; far from it. But he does think that everyone needs to take five minutes and appreciate the fact that this kid got his Prius up to 100 MPH. The Uncommon Wife, until last winter,
drove a ’99 Chevy Metro until she put it out of its misery and upgraded to a Hyundai Sonata. The Metro seemed to fight against The Common Man every time he tried to get it above 65, as though going 66 would somehow align it cosmically (at least 2/3 of the way) with Satan (Cheney) and all that he stood for. Being a good car, a nice car, a safe car, it would stick to 65, thank you. Or, better yet, 60. Anyway, The Common Man imagines that getting a Prius above 65 would be a little like that. The car would reluctantly edge toward the precipice, rattle and buck a little, ask you if you were sure that you knew what you were doing, say a Hail Mary, and then shake in fear as its speed continued to climb. For breaking that magic 65 barrier, everyone should thank AG3, for he has taught them not just something about the Prius, but about themselves. To reach for the impossible, the unreachable. To go beyond themselves and to dream new dreams, no matter how unlikely. Hallelujah, the Prius went 100 MPH! It can keep up with The Boy! Now, The Common Man needs to convince Gore to do a little babysitting.

Or, perhaps, The Common Man and The Uncommon Wife can simply deny that walking exists when The Boy begins expressing curiosity (which he’s already doing, with his big boy standing). They can say, “With respect, The Boy, despite what you think you may see, there is no such thing as a domestic walking program going on in this house. And there is no internal disagreement between your parents about whether such a program should be instituted. Your parents feel confident that crawling is just fine for you and denies any existence of this so-called “walking”. Later, when The Boy points at The Common Man and The Uncommon Wife as they go about their daily business in and around the family home, as if to say, “HEY! You’re walking! How come you get to walk and I don’t?” they will testify that they do not recall testifying about walking and that, indeed, they never said that walking does not exist, just that it was ill-advised, given the time and place. Later, when The Boy becomes cognizant of the things that he can play with and those he can’t, The Common Man will apologize for any confusion that his previous testimony has caused and that, indeed, he always meant to say that there was walking and encourages The Boy to investigate it fully, now that he can be responsible about the whole thing.

Anyway, The Common Man and The Uncommon Wife haven’t decided just how to handle this yet, but they will figure it out soon. Now, if you’ll excuse The Common Man, The Boy has a handful of cat food.

Up Is the New Down

The Common Man believes that Procrast is a wonderful nation in which to vacation at the end of a semester. In an age when there is so much out there to see and do, how can a person not willfully get distracted from mundane chores such as paper writing. Indeed, writing has been gleefully interupted by cleaning and the NFL draft and laundry and a Twins game, house guests and, now, a blog entry.

The Uncommon Wife's little cousin is attending Penn State as a freshman this coming school year and she and her mother are visiting for the evening in the anticipation of getting a tour and turning in paperwork in the morning. This is a perfect opportunity for more procrastination, as The Common Man is looking forward to remembering what hopeful, uncynical exuberance was like.

Anyway, there are certainties in this world. Things that are absolutely sure bets on which everyone can agree. The world is round. The sun will come up tomorrow. If you throw a ball into the air, it will eventually land. There are WMDs in Iraq (it's a slam dunk!) And Journey is way better than Styx.

Until today, The Common Man thought that roads were solid, permanent things that would be our most lasting legacy upon this earth, in the way that you can still see places where wagons passed along the Oregon Trail. That is why The Common Man finds this so disillusioning. That the road in front of The Common Man could buckle and crumble and melt is shocking and befuddling. The world is flat and "Come Sail Away" is stuck on repeat.

Oh well, it's up to you, dirty diapers and McDonalds styrofoam containers, to carry on after this society is gone and everyone moves to The Common Mania.

Thank you Jevus!

The Common Man apologizes (not that The Common Man need ever apologize for anything) for the light blogging around here this week. As a special bonus, you can have an extra entry this weekend so that The Common Man can bring his total up to four for the week. It has been pretty busy in The Household this week, as The Uncommon Wife came up with bronchitis and The Boy got an ear infection. There has been a lot of work to do for school and, perhaps most importantly, The Common Family (which did spawn The Common Man, for he did not materialize out of the ether, you know) has come to visit for the weekend.

You don't care about excuses, of course. You just want a piece of The Common Man. Everyone wants a piece of The Common Man. While sometimes this demand grows tiresome, The Common Man understands how it can be so; he is, after all, pretty awesome. But since this is his blog, not yours, to get your The Common Man fix (you junkie, you), you will have to endure him talking about what's going on in his life at the moment.

Tomorrow, you see, The Boy will be dunked for Christ. This is a joyous occasion, for The Common Man loves the Lord (and the Lord loves The Common Man) and has been disappointed that The Boy has gone so long without the dunking (though not as disappointed as The Uncommon Wife). So, The Common Man's family, in-laws, and out-laws will be descending on him to celebrate immersing The Boy in water. Unlike the last mass family gathering (the nuptuals between The Common Man and The Uncommon Wife), there will be no dancing, no nervousness, and absolutely no drinking scotch from a vase. There has, however, been a great deal of practicing for the big day, as The Boy has been taking a lot of showers recently, practicing getting his face wet. He should be fine. At three months old, it's time for him to grow up a little. As Don Vito Corleone said to Johnny Fontane, "You can be a man!"

Next week, he's going to practice stifling his emotions and keeping a stiff upper lip.