I’m consistently amazed by the progression of this kid’s ability to tell us what he wants. And when I say amazed, I mean, scared out of my mind. In retrospect, it was just so easy when you could just lay him on the floor with, what we considered good music on radio and just believe that he was content..maybe even happy. We then got to the point—before he could walk—where we would hold him and he would point in general directions and say "DEES!" (’this’) and by process of elimination, we could eventually figure out what it was that he was after. Even then, we just figured that when he wanted to turn the stereo on or off, or flip a light switch, he was just doing it for the sake of doing it—not expecting any results.

Now, however, it’s a whole new ball game. He knows what he wants to:
eat—and which cupboard to access;
read—although no book must remain on the shelf;
play with—not usually any of his billions of toys;
or… <ahem>…watch on television.

Charlie watching da-dee with da-dee

That’s right, Charlie has become a full-fledged mupp-o-holic. He now depends on Elmo, Cookie Monster, the Count—you name it—to get him through each day. We realize that it’s our own fault; it all started when he would wake up earlier than planned and we’d put on an episode to keep him occupied, while we would lay half-asleep ignoring the effects this would have on our child. And what makes this even worse for me, in particular, is that, with his limited vocabulary, his word for TV is ‘da-dee’. I suppose I’m not surprised. He’s been saying ‘da-dee’ for months now and has never been referring to me but rather our dog (doggie), Pedro. Sorry Pedro, you’ve been replaced.

Now, when I want my ego stroked, I simply stand between Charlie and his Sesame Street. When he starts screaming longingly at me: ‘da-deee. da-deee.’ I pretend for a moment he knows who I am.