It happened as I was cutting a tantalizing piece of pecan pie, its aroma so rich and strong that it just called me to swan dive off the butcher block and swim around in its gooey gobs of pecan heaven. What is it about pecan pie that is so entrancing? So powerful and wonderful? Most of the world’s problems could probably be solved over a piece of pecan pie. Who’s going to argue when you have something that delicious in front of you?
Anyway, I was into the pecan pie, which had absorbed all of my attention. It was later in the evening, and my wife was in my 15-month-old’s room trying to put the little girl to sleep. All was quiet. All was very quiet.
Then … BAM! The bedroom door slammed open and out charged a little critter, her finger pointing up in the air at me, giggling with a devilish grin on her face. I jumped. I almost threw the pecan pie at her. I almost leapt into the dishwasher to hide.
“Ahhhh!” I screamed. “A monster!”
I was scared, seriously scared. No, it’s not that my toddler is easy to mistake for a rabid midget troll. But the lights were dimmed and it had been such a quiet, peaceful night. Who would have thought I would get attacked by my toddler while cutting a piece of pie?
“You’re scared of a baby?” my wife asked, amused.
I tried to catch my breath and stuck my finger in the light socket to get my heart beating again.
“A monster!” I replied. “I thought I was being attacked by a 31-inch monster.”
Oh, she’s a character. And obviously, we’ve entered a new phase. This phase of toddlerhood is when they realize they’re funny, or can be if they play their cards right. It’s when they realize they can do things and get a reaction. “Look! Daddy wet himself!”
This is when they become little pranksters, playing to the crowd and doing what must be done for a laugh.
I almost cried the first night I asked her to give daddy a kiss and she did. She honest to goodness leaned over and kissed me on the lips. But now I ask for one and she might, or she might lean in all cute and sweet, coming precariously close to my lips, only to pull away at the last second with a good laugh.
You stinker!
I wonder how many of her falls are for real anymore. She’s like the Three Stooges wrapped up in one tiny frame. When there are no grippies on her socks, she skates about the house out of control, executing magnificent spills, tumbles and trips that are as graceful and beautiful as they are terrifying — not to mention hysterical. She always comes out unscathed, looking around to see what the reaction is. If we laugh, she adds it to the repertoire.
Who are these toddlers? They get so smart so fast. How did they master the art of trickery and humor?
What goes on in those little minds? To live life with such excitement, fervor and, well, gusto. That’s it! That’s the word to describe a toddler: gusto — “hearty or keen enjoyment; zest,” says Webster’s Dictionary.
They aren’t toddlers, they’re gustolers.
They don’t have all the worries or hardships that we do. No bills to pay. Money? They would just eat it. They couldn’t tell you the difference between health insurance and a diaper pail. They live the life, and what a wonderful life it is.
Waving at the world all the time like some kind of dignitary on a parade float. Getting laughs whenever they can, and feeling like a star. Jumping out on their daddies while they’re trying to cut a piece of pecan pie. Oh, they are something else those little people, pratfalls and everything.