My Son is a Parseltongue

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So I have been so hesitant to write anything about what’s been bothering me lately.  Like really bothering me.  I know I pretty much write about anything and everything on here because that’s what this blog is about… The real stuff… The good, the bad and the ugly… Clint Eastwood style.   But I also want to make sure that later in life Jax doesn’t have a complex… (Or at least too much of a complex).

But I’m starting to worry.  So this blog entry is less about me telling a story and more about me being able to get something off my chest.  Something that is worrying me.

I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m an educator.  I’ve been a teacher and administrator for 15 years now.  Maybe I have some sort of hypochondria or a super heightened sense of attention to detail when it comes to child development, but I feel like I’m starting to stress out.

So he’s almost 17 months old… He’s done a lot over the past year and a half.  He’s hitting milestones left and right… But he’s still not taking. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m the first to defend the… “Everyone develops at their own pace” philosophy.  But when it’s my own kid it’s stressful. Don’t forget… This is the type of literature I read on a daily basis:

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Try reading that as a parent and not losing your mind.  Try reading and article that says by 15 months your child should be able to order Lo Mein in Chinese and be able to use chopsticks to eat it. I’m struggling to balance my professional career as someone who diagnosis students’ reading problems and has to decide if a students behavior issues are developmental, environmental or learned… I’m struggling to balance that with my professional career as a dad who worries about everything.

I mean, we do have the basic “mama” and “dada”… and for whatever weird reason there’s also “nene” (bottle).  But other than that he has the language skills of Animal from the Muppet Babies.

We talk to him (I mean… I could talk for hours… its my favorite pasttime).  Grammy, literally gives him literacy and vocabulary lessons all day… half of his toys talk to him… and we read to him every night.  And all we get in return is something that sounds like Parseltongue.  I mean, maybe I’m looking into this to deeply… but he sure fits the bill of a Parselmouth

“Parseltongue is, when spoken, a hissing sound, similar to that of a snake; as such, normal people cannot understand it (one known exception being Dumbledore). Apart from merely communicating with serpentine lifeforms, Parselmouths also seem able to influence the will of serpents to a certain extent. Aside from serpent-based creatures, Parselmouths can communicate with each other with the language, as Harry understood Tom Riddle’s commands to the Basilisk and the House of Gauntcommunicate with each other almost exclusively in Parseltongue. While inherited, Parseltongue usually requires the speaker to face a snake-based creature or object shaped like a snake (e.g. a carving); more proficient speakers may be able to speak it at will.” -HarryPotter Wiki

So maybe I should be less worried about the fact that he isn’t really talking or more worried that my son may be a Dark Wizard?

Jimmy Freaking Fallon

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“Hey dada look, I found Jimmy Fallon’s book… where is your book?”

Jimmy F-ing Fallon.  Everything about Jimmy FREAKING Fallon is starting to tweek my last nerve… not terrible nerve pain… but more of a dull throb of my last nerve.  I can’t stand it, I can’t stand the jealousy coursing through my veins right now.  It is a maddening feeling. Everything about this SOB is perfect… his hair, his job, his jokes, his “superstar” status… he totally stole it from me.  The guy is like the perfect version of me… (minus the fact that I am not famous, can’t rap, don’t chill with Justin Timberlake and closest I’ve ever been to the Tonight Show was a pre-printed autograph photo of Jay Leno that I once got in the mail).  I mean think back a few years, he was the character on SNL who couldn’t get through thirty seconds of a sketch without laughing (see: Debbie Downer w. Lindsey Lohan)… and now he is basically King Midas.  Everything this guy touches turns to gold.

I’m sitting here mashing the keyboard on my “Dad Blog” stoked to recieve 17 views a day, and passing my “Dad Book” out to publishers like its a free condom at senior prom… and this dude writes seven words max and is a New York Times Best Selling Author?!!! WTF Jimmy… save some for the rest of us.

Here is the thing though, I love the guy, like I literally would dump all my childhood friends to chill with him.  He seems so much cooler than the guys I grew up with (they are so overrated; I can say those things about my friends because I know there is no way in hell they are reading this).  I love the fact that he just seems like an average guy, just wants to hang out and laugh at immature crap and drink beer.

In an interview Fallon told MPR News, “I just want the baby’s first word to be ‘dada.’ I don’t care if she’s smart. I have one agenda.”  Totally my views on parenting.  Steal the show, steal the fame and live to tell another day. That quote brings us to the main point of today’s blog, Jimmy’s book,  Your Baby’s First Word Will Be Dada.  What a parenting power move.  I sat here for days on end basically saying “Dada” until the word iteself sounded weird.  I caught so much heat for it.  Parents, in-laws and the wife gave me grief for not being equal in the first word teaching techniques and then you have Fallon… he just does the same thing and can call it research for his new book.

So unfair.  So Jimmy.  Guy can’t do anything wrong. I would be surprised if Jackson’s first word wasn’t Jimmy.  Damn you Fallon!

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PS: Fallon was right…