So my seventeen month old Dylan and I have a breakthrough, I thought, but then we really didn't so I was mad and disappointed

So my 17 month old Dylan and I are walking around inside of a mall where there's a bookstore and a Starbucks.

We get to Starbucks. I am going to have a triple tall mocha, whole milk with whip. Dylan is in his little stroller, grabbing for the mugs that are on display.

I lean down and look at him, and pull his arms away from the mugs and move his stroller back a little. He gives me that shitty look again, but then he says:

"Dadda"

I melt, so to speak. He knows me. For the first time in his midget life, he has called me "Dadda" to my face.

He gets who I am.

I am thrilled at this first validation. I'm the guy who's going to teach him things, practice sports with him when he is older, teach him how to play video games learn things on the computer. I will help mold him to be a functioning, successful adult.

Then he says:

"Mamma"

while looking at me, followed by:

"Babba"

then

"Nanna"

Okay, so he doesn't know me after all. Its infant jibberish. I'm also the guy who's going to make him take out the garbage, shovel the sidewalk in the winter, mow the lawn, clean the bathroom with a toothbrush...I'm creating a list in my head as I get my drink and start downing it.

"Gagga"


he says, looking at me and smiling. I give him a 'Minnesota nice' smile, kind of a passive aggressive thing we do in the Midwest. He'll get used to it.