His favorite sporting events are four-wheeling over reclining parents, followed by a colossal rear-up and smash move, and playing dodge-duck-and-pillow on the couch. In between these sessions, he loves to choose books for us to read to him. We'll usually get a few pages through before he grabs the book and replaces it with another. I like to think he's just taking the information in so fast that we just have to keep feeding him new ones. The sessions go kind of like this:
"Do you like this, Finn? The little hippo..."
"Dude, I'm so done with that. I totally know what's going to happen."
"Okay, then. The big locomotive steamed down the tracks..."
"Yeah, uh huh, and was the spark that ignited the industrial revolution of the nineteenth century. Now tell me something I don't know, Dad. Oooooo, like that? Whats that?"
"A purple circle."
"Oooooooooooooooooo!!!!"
And so on. When he's taken in his terabyte of daily information (Johnny mnemonic's a hack, BTW, compared to this kid) his piping hot brain needs some calories. Lacking the physical strength to actually open the fridge, he pretends to "play" with a wooden hammer and ball set (which, by the way, is a very scary thing for a small boy to own under any circumstances) while waiting for us to open it up and pull something out.
Within moments, he tosses the hammer aside and power-crawls to the icebox before we can get it closed, stands up like a baby bear, and fishes around the bottom shelves for goodies. The other day he managed to pull out an entire dish of cut fruit. He dumped the entire thing on the floor to discover it was ninety percent unripe cantaloupe. Reaching into the impromptu fruit salad, he plucked out the single, ripe blackberry, screamed a cry of victory while hoisting it into the air, and devoured it.
These are the victories of the one-year-old. Brain fed, he promptly crawled off to taunt the cats.
