My Kid, The Cartoon

Life in our house frequently resembles a bad Saturday-morning cartoon. There is a lot of noise. The plotlines are nonsensical. We have no shortage of comic violence. And everyone has enormous eyes and is wearing some crazy costume discover this info here.

So of course, when Thomas learned to walk, it came as no surprise that his idea of walking involves stretching his arms out in front of him and lurching about like a Scooby Doo villain. I half expect Maddux to run up, peel off his mask and proclaim “Jinkies, gang! He’s not a baby at all! Our ‘baby’ is really Mr. Skaggs from the jam factory!”

At first it was just a few swoopy lurches at a time, followed by the inevitable plop-and-wail. Now our little cartoon villain races around at top speed, still with the herky-jerky gait and still with the creepy zombie arms stretched out in front — for no reason, apparently, other than to make me laugh.

Of course, the real Swamp Monster would never pause in mid-lurch, cock his head, and give a proud twelve-toothed beam and then applaud himself for walking. Still, once he gets a little practice under his belt, I won’t be surprised if, when Thomas runs, his feet look like crazy wheels.

Zoinks!

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