Brent Davis (bdavis@bamanet.ua.edu), Center for Public Television, P.O. Box 870150, University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa, AL 35487.
When he was a crawler it wasn't so easy for him to give us the slip. The only time we didn't watch him constantly was when he was sleeping. And sometimes we'd gather at the crib, the way new parents will do, just to see if baby has forgotten to how to sleep. There's no understanding new parents.
Now we've decided we'd like to read the paper again, something we haven't done since we brought him home, or that it's time to think about unloading the dishwasher. We'll start with Zack at our side in the kitchen, perhaps placing him in front of the drawer that holds the pots and pans, and he'll spend a couple of minutes chipping away at the linoleum with a teflon sauce pan. Then he'll pick himself up and stride purposefully out of the room as if he has an appointment.
We remain at the dishwasher. We've accumulated a fair amount of dirty dishes in the last several months and this is our first chance to get at them. So we cock our head and listen for telltale signs.
First we'll hear the rattle of venetian blinds. We can picture our son pushing his hands through the slats. Then there's a scraping sound and we know he's trying to plug his humidifier into the heating vent. No harm done.
We hear the padding of his feet on the floor and the sound of wrinkling paper. Zack's located the newspaper and is reducing it to a large, gray, drool-soaked ball. We will wait another day to resume reading the Gazette.
There's a few moments of relief when we hear that he's actually playing with his toys--he takes a few swings at his cobbler's bench and pushes a truck across the floor. His toys occupy him for perhaps half a minute.
Then there's the sound that frightens all parents of toddlers: silence. You've lost sonar contact with your child. Maybe you don't notice it for a while, selfishly indulging in your dishwasher fantasies, and then it strikes you: Where is that kid? And what is he doing?
This is when parents find their child has discovered something new and often destructive to do, and usually the toilet is involved. Baby has learned that the contents of the laundry hamper will fit in the toilet; it's occurred to them that the stuff in the bowl is the same stuff they drink, so they may as well indulge; they wonder if their father's new suede loafers will float.
The walk from the kitchen is a long one for Mommy or Daddy, and they instinctively head for the bathroom. They know that's where the most damage can be done. So parents can take some satisfaction from all this, even as they are wringing out the birth certificate, savings bonds, and other irreplaceable documents son or daughter has stuffed in the commode. Though they weren't able to anticipate the problem and lock the bathroom door, they knew exactly where to look when the ominous silence registered. The parent is at last starting to think like a toddler. Perhaps just in time to save the household from destruction.