Archives for category: Education

This post was going to be about a neglected little potty that spent its entire life collecting dust in the corner of the kitchen.  And one day, all of that changed.

I’m not sure what got into his head, but the Worm was so excited to use the potty last week, he almost peed himself.

Me:  “Worm, what are you doing?”

Worm:  “Me want to be nakie nakie!”

Me:  “Ok, let me take off your shirt and pajama pants.”

Worm:  “Nooooo! Nakie, nakie!”

Crap!  (Not literally.)  Maybe we can do this for a few minutes and when he’s distracted, I’ll put the diaper back on…

The lithe leprechaun became giddy, arms (and other appendages) flapping about as he hurdled the couch cushions and zipped through the air in unclothed hysteria.  I gave chase, holding a clean diaper and hoping to catch any pee or poo that could escape Worm’s little body should he laugh a wee (literally) too hard.  Ten minutes in, I was exhausted.  The only real solution was to break out the potty, pitch it to Worm like a used car salesman, and hope he would take to it like a duck to water.

Me:  “Worm, check this out!  This kiddie potty is so ergonomic, and aerodynamic I might add!  It’s the perfect blend of form and function!  Porcelain white plastic!  No-slip, high performance rubber feet to keep that potty planted, even during an earthquake!  I’m going to put it over here in the middle of the kitchen floor, so you can observe it from every angle!  If you want to take it for a test ride, just hop in right here and fill it up.  Go ahead, kick the proverbial tires!”

Worm:  “There’s no handle.”

Me:  “Well, it still works.  It’s an eco-friendly design that automatically senses pee and poo.  Then it flushes without water.”

Worm:  “DADDY!?”

Me:  “Ok, I have to empty the potty into the big toilet by hand.  But it’s still cool, right?  Plus, you’ll use the potty like Honeydaddy!”

Worm:  “Oooooh  Kaaaay!”

I could sell snow to an Eskimo.  Sort of…

Worm:  “It’s dirty.”

Me:  “Dude, the stuff you’re going to put inside will be much dirtier that those measly dust specks.”

The kid will pick up food off the sidewalk and eat it, but all of a sudden now he’s questioning the cleanliness of his kiddie toilet?

Toddlers and rational thought seldom collide.  I crossed my fingers that not a drop of his body fluids would fall on the floor…for the next 2 hours.

Worm ended up using the potty three times with no assistance or help from me!  He even brought the full potty to me to show me what he made!  (Gross, but at least he sink his hands into it and splash it around.)

All in all, it was a very good learning experience for both of us…well, mainly for me.  I didn’t pressure him to use the potty.  I gave him the choice to pee in the warm, safe, comfy, clean, lovely, free-lollipop-dispensing potty or pee in the cold, drab, spider-infested, boogie-man-lurking corner.  The choice was easy for him to make.

Too bad his desire left after the sun went down.

I’ll always remember this day, not because he was potty training himself, but because he rubbed his bare bum on my head twice when I wasn’t looking.  (I washed my hair about 10 times that night.  It still doesn’t feel clean.)  That whole day was more fun than I expected it to be (except for the bum-hair part).  We’re so close to getting him out of diapers, I can almost taste it!  Well, I can at least touch my hair and smell it…

Come On Worm!  You Can Doooo Doooo it!

Come On Worm! You Can Doooo Doooo it!

I got off the phone with mom and dad earlier.  And both of them agree with my wife that Worm should be in daycare more than once a week.

The three of them just don’t see what I see.  In our conversation, I just couldn’t get through to them that school (daycare, in our case) isn’t as good an idea that they think it is.  And more education is not the answer!  (Does saying that make me a Republican?)

Worm and I have a good thing going.  He loves to be with me when Trotro is not on TV and I love to be with him unless I’m Facebooking.  I’m a shark and he’s my pilot fish.  We need each other.  And if he’s away from me for too long, the parasites of boredom will come nibble at my body until I disappear into oblivion.  He keeps me from having my own life nothing to do!

I’ve heard it before that kids are like sponges.  Their tiny brains are making tens of thousands of connections daily.  More stimulation is better.  Social activities build character.  Blah, blah, blah.  I’ve no doubt that my son has a microprocessor of a brain.  He gets a lot of stuff already that I never thought he would understand at the young age of 2.45.  I never needed to explain to him that there weren’t any real people inside the TV, or that nothing has been proven to be faster than the speed of light.  He just seemed to understand.

So, I ask the question.  What’s there for him to learn at school?  Practically nothing, if you ask me.  School is a germ infested Petri dish of a soon-to-be reality show where viewers will gain weekly chuckles from watching toddlers doing dumb things like cutting each others ears off with scissors, or playing “Who can poop a pencil eraser”.  Every child that makes it through the day will have the chance to vote someone else off the playground.   And the last surviving cast member will get a lifetime (which will be shortened substantially by any one) of free soft drinks, cotton candy, and Ginsu knives.  I’m digressing, aren’t I?

Well, without further ado…here are 5 reasons why me, a professional SAHD, would rather my son learn from me than go to daycare/school:

  1. Communicable diseases – Sure, he’s licked everything in our house except for the dogs’ butts.  But these are germs that he knows and loves!  His body has accepted our microbial housemates.  At school, Worm could potentially lick other people’s dogs’ butts (indirectly, of course) and that could get him sick.  Besides, it’s gross.  It’s a fact that he can stay healthier here at home with me.
  2. Potentially dangerous toys – At home, I’ve analysed and spreadsheet-ed all the toys we own and provided a realistic probability chart of toy hazards, such as choke (eat), projectile (throw), drop on limb (gravity), and whether or not said toy poses a threat when laying on the ground (for example: jacks and ninja shuriken).  I’ve calculated that we’ve ruled out 99.5% danger using my algorithm.  The potential for harm at school is exponentially larger.  What if Worm sits on a hypodermic needle or falls from the ceiling fan?  School’s dangerous (hence, it’s why we don’t own a ceiling fan, either).
  3. Education – I’m smarter than two-thirds of the toddlers at Worm’s daycare.  (A strong assumption.)  What’s he going to learn from a child that can’t even complete a sentence.  Nothing!  So, if I want the best education for Worm, it’s going to be here with me.  We do ABCD’s every day…What do they do every day?  Paint?  That’s not learning anything except ‘How to make a mess and have someone else clean it up!’
  4. Peer pressure – I peer pressure Worm in positive ways.  (I get on my knees to talk to him.  The term ‘peer’ is more about making yourself look about the same size, not about actually being the same age.  It’s a common misconception.)  I get Worm to do things that are good for him.  I dare him to eat 20 pieces of broccoli as fast as he can and funnel a 12oz. of carrot juice.  At school, I’m sure his buddies will try to make my little boy do things like pull his pants down and pee in a corner, or convince him to put rocks in some poor girl’s mattress before nap time.  No one wins at school.  But everyone wins at home…
  5. Cool factor – What’s more rad than saying that you hung out with your dad…all…day…long?  Nothing that I can think of.  Well, maybe quantifying the forces of subatomic particles.  But after that, nothing.

So you see mom, dad, and wifie?  Those are some pretty convincing arguments against Worm doing more daycare.  The superior solution is more Honeydaddy time!  Just remember, he loves it just as much as I do!  And if he doesn’t love it, I just force him to!  School is very last century technology…

I'm Teaching You About Life, Worm.  Life!

I’m Teaching You About Life, Worm. Life!

Gavin – 27; Honeydaddy – 17 (If there’s one thing I can really teach you, Wormie…it’s to love, and be loved.)

The time has come.  I can’t believe it’s been two years since I started stay at home dadding for the Worm.  (I barely blinked, or slept for that matter, and here we are, two years later.)  And I sense that he is beginning to need a little more than what I can offer.  There’s only so many times that my son can play “Here, eat this birthday cake poopie.” under the dining table with his old man until it gets a tad stale.  (Not the cake, the game…I always eat the B.C.P. while it’s fresh and hot!)

We (the wife and I) made a decision to enroll the wiggly one in day care.  The plan was to drop him off one day a week, and if Worm really enjoyed himself, he could slowly move up to two or three days a week.  Back then, it sounded great.  But the reality is setting in tonight.  I picture Worm getting thrown into the den and the other wolf cubs devouring him like a steak in sheep’s clothing.  And we’d be indirectly encouraging the carnage of my baby by paying for it with a check or credit card.

I’m worried about him.  I don’t know how he will survive without me for a whole half of a half minus one twelfth of a day (which amounts to 4 hours for the ones that read my blog to escape from logical thought for a few minutes per diem).  Only last week, we were eating dinner at the local uber-kid-friendly pizzeria and I left Worm by himself in the kids’ play area for literally two minutes.  I came back to see him standing in the corner scared out of his mind and crying for his Honeydaddy.

It was two minutes!  How can I leave him for 4 hours?  He’d dehydrate from the fluid loss and drown in a pool of his own snivel and tears!

We’re bosom buddies without the lipstick and dresses!  We’re like Bonnie and Clyde without the guns!  We’re like Twins (but only if I’m Arnold and he’s Danny DeVito)!  We’re inseparable!  Or were.  I guess we’ll find out what each is made of when we’re not glued to one another at the hip.

It’s harder for me than I thought it would be.  I’m sad because I won’t be there to pick him up when he falls, to make him smile when he’s sad, or to pull his finger out of his nose.  For four whole hours!  That’s an eternity!  Worm is my baby boy.  I love him enough to make myself cry just thinking about him.  But, I also love him enough to know that he must grow up.  And he’s got to spread his proverbial wings.  And he must learn to pull his own finger out of his nose.  I just thought it would be nearer the time he would be old enough to drink alcohol.  (Legally.  I mean drink it legally!)

I know it’s a bit selfish of me, but I love, love, love that he looks to me for comfort and companionship.  I’ve gotten used to being his whole world.  But I also know that if I keep holding him so tightly, he’ll never properly relate to mankind and will have problems becoming a functional member of society.  And he’ll live with his mom and me for the rest of his life, never leaving the house to do more than check our mailbox six days a week.  (Ok, that’s sort of a stretch.  But, it’s still a worrying possibility!)

So Worm, go ahead.  Meet some kids your age.  Explore!  Discover!  Learn!  Share your birthday cake poopie with your classmates.  Cut a piece for all of your friends.  Go laugh and play and take those first steps towards figuring out this great big wonderful planet we live on.  I’ll be here for you when you’re ready for me again…and if there’s any leftovers, I’d still love to have you share some cake with me too.

Who Can Turn Down Fresh B.C.P.?  Thanks Wormie!

Who Can Turn Down Fresh B.C.P.? Thanks Wormie!

Wormie tells us this all the time!  Translated, the title means that we love him.  Lucky for us, he doesn’t think we are tastier than the new gut-busting Krispy Kreme doughnut sloppy joe sandwich, because nothing is or ever will be.   (This sandwich incidentally made it’s debut in my hometown!)  So, in case I forget about these funny words and sayings that Worm toddlerizes, I feel that I need to post them here.  But instead of just putting together a list, I’ve decided to write it out as a dialogue between us in what would occur in a Honeydaddy-Worm conversation.

Me:  Worm, are you ready for lunch?

Worm:  Eat big meat!  Watch tah tee see-oh!  (Translation – “Sure father.  I would love to dine on pheasant or swine, or even bison while I view an episode of Curious George.)

—–

Me:  What are you stuffing in your diaper?

Worm:  Buy a nana, nut, and pee a bubba, ga koo!  (Translation – “Just some banana, doughnut, and Nutella.  Thank you!  These pants pockets are fake!  So, I found some extra space here in my soggy underwear.”)

—–

Worm:  Me tursy dat.  chase fo wo and guk eet.  (Translation – “I’m parched from exercising the dogs around the house.  Can you grab me a beer?”)

Me:  How about a root beer instead?

—–

Worm:  Honeydaddy, my arm hurt.  My pee pee hurt.  Tiss.  (Translation – “I can’t fathom how I could hurt my arm and pee pee simultaneously, but I did.  Can you kiss them to make me feel better?”)

Me (if there’s any time that I must step up and be a dad, it’s now.):  Umm….uhh….Well, I suggest you stop yanking on your pee pee like you’re starting a lawnmower and both your arm and pee pee will feel better.  Point to the boo boo.  *mwah*…one for the arm and…’hey is that a fire engine over there!?!’

Worm: Wow! Where?

—–

Sorry Worm, I Should Have Believed You The First Time You Told Me...

Sorry Worm, I Should Have Believed You The First Time You Told Me…

Am I The Only One That Thinks Worm Looks Like a Gap Tooth Bill Murray Here?

Am I The Only One That Thinks Worm Looks Like a Gap Tooth Bill Murray Here?

One of the topics in the imaginary book “100 Things No One Tells New Parents” is that of the gap toothed baby.  I don’t yet own a copy, so when my little Worm started filling his mouth with his first set of pearly whites, I wasn’t prepared.   A huge space formed between tooth E and tooth F.  (That’s medical speak for the top two front teeth!)  I asked myself for the 15th time “Is Worm actually my son?” I don’t have a gap and neither does Steph.  So why would the Worm have such a prominent one?  The only sensible answer is that we accidentally picked up Michael Strahan and Lauren Hutton‘s love child from the hospital (and in exchange, our real child is having the champagne wishes and caviar dreams the rest of us only see on TV).

Upon closer inspection, Steph and I found that our boy’s maxillary frenulum (or frenum) is quite low on the gums.  Worm’s upper labial tie (not to be confused with a neck tie, or cravat) attaches very near the bottom of his gums at the edge of the hard palate.  This gives me good reason to assume that Worm’s teeth are gapped due to the thick (about 3mm) frenulum that sits between his front choppers.  Other possible gap teeth causes for Worm (besides the theory that he isn’t mine) are:  his teeth are small, his jaw is big, he may have extra teeth in the gums that prevent correct positioning, etc.

Bad Frenulum!  Bad, bad!

Bad Frenulum! Bad, bad!

To be on the safe side, we made a special visit to our pediatrician.  The kid doctor had a look and told us not to worry about the teeth or frenulum just yet.  And to have it evaluated at the dentist when he turns two (Worm, not the dentist).  She also said that since the teeth and gums change as more teeth emerge, it may be less of a problem, or go away completely as his adult teeth come in.

Having never before seen a living frenum like Worm’s, I decided to get a second opinion from our other doctor, the internet.  I researched a few articles reassuring me that my son was not a mutant lifeform and that other children also suffer from different levels of lip-tie.  Worm’s frenum looks to be between a class III and IV, which are the most tightly attached.  I don’t know if it was because he was our first child, or because we didn’t pay close enough attention to him, but we missed catching it early and it’s most likely Obama’s fault in some way.  I felt slightly better when I read that plenty of “tight frenulum” issues go undetected because many babies adapt well enough to overcome some of the associated problems.  Worm’s workarounds worked right around us.  Scouring the internet, I found many parents’ stories that share a lot of our fears and concerns about the frenulum fracas.  Because sharing is caring, here is a summary of our story, small enough to fit in a pocket of your mind:

When Worm was an infant, he was fussy.  Early on, I spent many hours sleepwalking through the house trying to bounce and squeeze the extra air out of him.  We thought he was a little colicky but normal, as we also didn’t have any prior parenting experience to compare him to.  He was our first child.  After being introduced to solid foods, Worm quickly lost his desire to breastfeed.  That never bothered us, because it gave us an excuse to use our brand new baby food processor earlier than anticipated.  We figured that his personality was the driving factor in his desire to switch to solid foods, so no red flags arose.  During the first year of his life, we didn’t really look inside his mouth for longer than the amount of time it took him to yawn.  An occasional peek showed us a tongue, pink gums, and a couple of cobwebs in the back corner…nothing out of the ordinary.  Then he got old enough to belt out a hearty laugh (from one of my horrible jokes) and his upper lip only curled slightly. Voila!  We noticed a thick flap of skin holding onto Worm’s upper lip and gums and the wife and I started pointing fingers.  “That’s not from my side of the family!” we each exclaimed.

(We’re still trying to locate the family member that passed this gene down so we can bill them for the dental procedures.)

So to make other new parents aware of this ‘more common than you think’ issue, I’ve provided a list of upper labial frenulum complications below.  I tried to gather a concise list of signs and symptoms I’ve found that make sense of the upper lip frenulum fuss:

  • Baby may have problems latching, make clicking sounds during feeding, or take in excess air during feeding
  • Breastfeeding may be painful for the mother (and cause cracking and bleeding of the nipple)
  • Baby may fail to gain weight during first year of life
  • Bottle feeding may also pose a problem
  • Colicky baby or symptoms of colic
  • GERD and indigestion
  • Poor lip movement that can affect smiling and talking
  • Diastema (or gap teeth) that carries on through adulthood
  • Accelerated upper teeth decay
  • The need for orthodontics, such as braces later on

So now the question is:  What do we do?

I’m not into waiting for the frenulum to fix itself.  I know there are a few dental websites that say to wait, but I don’t want this to turn into thousands of dollars worth of braces and teeth realignment down the road.  (I want a new mountain bike and I’m not spending good money on useless sillyness like teeth…)  We don’t want general anesthesia for Worm, so anything requiring it is placed at the bottom of the list as a last resort.  (The only things putting Worm to sleep are my boring childhood stories.)  I could snip it myself, but my gag reflex kicked in after only seeing pictures online.  I’m not going to do it.  The best option I see right now is an erbium laser treatment.  We will start heading in that direction and gather more information.  It uses local anesthetic, is timely, and involves obliteration of tissue and burning of flesh… but in a nice, humane and painless way.  Besides, anything involving lasers should be nothing short of awesome!

We’re going to look into the cost of the procedure and if there is insurance coverage for any of it.  Pics and updates to come.  Stay tuned.

I wonder if Smush could have the same problem…hmm.

Related Links:

Oral Diagnosis of Abnormal Frenum Attachments in Neonates and Infants – Classification of maxillary frenulum attachment and examines a laser treatment solution.

Frenums, Tongue-tie, Ankyloglossia – Excellent presentation discussing sublingual and maxillary frenula complications.  Surgical procedures and before/after pictures.  Very interesting.

Breastfeeding and Frenulums – website with excellent information for breastfeeding mothers as well as a presentation HERE.  Brian Palmer is the dentist and he put together the Frenums, Tongue-tie, and Ankyloglossia presentation above as well.  Excellent.

Blog Posts:

Frenectomy Today Frenum, Frenulum and Frenectomy – How to Effectively Deal With Them in 21st Century America –  Great blog post on one woman’s struggle with finding help for her child’s maxillary labial frenulum problem.  Other articles

The funny-shaped woman – Here’s a blog post that got me started on my internet hunt to find out more.  It’s a real life breastfeeding woman’s experience with maxillary labial tie.

The Mommypotamus Lip Tie Q & A – Great blog post on questions that you may have about lip-tie.

The Mommypotamus How to Spot Tongue/Lip Ties & Get FREE Expert Advice – Another great blog post on lip and tongue tie and how to start looking for it on your children.

Tempest Beauty Maxillary Labial Frenum and Tongue Tie – Mom’s experience with feeding and later, laser treatment for upper lip tie at Dr. Kotlow office.

Yap, yap yap.  The Worm is mimicking noises and words unlike ever before.  It’s like his brain went into hyperdrive shortly after he began placing one foot in front of the other.  Now, the only time our house is quiet is when he is napping or sleeping.  Otherwise, it’s jibber-jabber and pitter-patter time!

I’ve decoded some of his new toddler babble:

“Me Me!”  (Sure, let’s pick 3 more and make lemonade!)

“Dak!”  (Yes, it is.  I’ll turn on the light for you.)

“Ah Ta?”  (You can’t have Otter Pops for breakfast.  Or.  Yes, I’ll make hot dogs for lunch.)

“Na Na.”  (Your nana loves you.  Or.  You want a banana?)

I take full credit for helping Worm increase his vocabulary.  He’s still a little unsure about my techniques, but he should rest assured that my “Proven” and “Revolutionary” method of taping headphones to his ears and looping the audio recording of ‘Encyclopedia Brittanica’ is going to genius a child make.  He’ll hate me for it later when he’s scaring off girlfriends with diatribe about the migratory patterns of the elephant whale.  ‘Brains before broads’ as my parents used to say!

Unfortunate problems arise when the headphones are removed.  Like the fact that he can hear me speaking.  Rarely (of course), certain situations will transform some of my more intellectual spouting into a string of 4 to 5 obscenities.  I used to think my mutterings were incomprehensible to those under 3 feet tall.  Until now.

“Shit!” erupts from a little mouth in the room.

Geez, he’s got ears like a bat!  I crack an imperceptible smile at the gusto behind his emphatic swear.  Then I kick myself for saying it first. (You see, my college football team gave up another touchdown.  It was a perfectly valid reason for swearing.)  I try not to make eye contact with Worm or acknowledge any of the past 30 seconds.

“Shit!” as he points at the football players on the TV.

Again?  WTF?  Does he have to do EVERYTHING daddy does?  I can’t even get my son to enunciate “Hi!” and the word shit just rolls off his tongue like a sailor’s.

I just taught a 19-month old his very first curse word (there goes my ‘Dad of the Year’ prize) and I really thought it would be his mother that would write that chapter of “How Not to Parent”.  I’m embarrassed and dumbfounded and slightly proud in a “my son has taken another step closer to becoming a man today” sort of way.

I don’t usually have a problem with curse words, especially when used in the right context.  It’s not like Worm used the s-word inappropriately either.  I applaud him for that.  I just imagined the dirty words would begin well after Worm was finished with dirty diapers.  I know we may face some parental backlash when Worm decides to finely articulate the more vulgar term for feces in a public setting.  But if we get shunned at the playground, we’ll just have to go somewhere we’ll fit right in…like the local sports pub.

You Got Daddy’s Dirty Mouth Too, Son.

Gavin – 18; Dad – 8 (I’m giving myself a point for this one.  It’s because of my specially formulated brain-boosting techniques that he can even say the word “shit” at his age.)

Worm is 18 months old.  We’ve kept him alive thus far and cheerfully pat ourselves on the back.  His incredibly resilient body took a lot of abuse and punishment from my inane innate parenting skills.  I look at my fathering style as a healthy blend of unintentional tomfoolery and collegiate style hazing.  “Worm, if you can make it through my method of parenting, you can join us in this club we call manhood!”

I never get anything right the first time.  I shouldn’t feel bad when I screw up the experiment Worm.  That’s why we’re having more than one kid!  One doesn’t just hop into a car for the first time and know how to drive it, right?  I’m sure the third child will be perfect!

Barring the fact that Worm really didn’t start walking much until almost 17 months and really didn’t start talking until about 2 weeks ago, he still made the cut off.  Whew!  With much surprise, we’ve made it through a large list of the 18-month milestones.  Since you can find those boring milestones elsewhere on the web, I haven’t included them here.

You’re Better off as a Back Seat Driver, Worm. We’ll Revisit This When You’re Old Enough to Reach the Gas Pedal…

This is a list of Worm’s latest been-there-done-thats:

  • Tells the dogs “Shut up!” when they’re being loud.  (Or “Sha daa!”  Already picking up our bad habits…)
  • Goes in a closet or corner to potty.  (Good thing he has his diaper on.  It’s heredity.  His father has tried to go out on a balcony to pee…)
  • Plays hide and seek. (He can be eerily still and quiet for this game…good skill to have for NINJA training!)
  • He closes the hallway closet doors every time he walks past and they’re cracked.  (OCD?  Is he going to be the next Howard Hughes?)
  • He Swiffers everything.  His desire to clean is impressive.   (Couch, coffee table, dog beds, etc.  I’m going to build a stool so he can start doing dishes.  More OCD?)
  • If he shreds paper and makes a mess, he picks each piece up to throw away.  (One day, I’ll be able to get him to clean up my mess.  Even more OCD?)
  • He can open a twist-off lid (…and feed the dogs)
  • He puts his fists up to his eyes and fake cries (Thanks Grandma for teaching him this.)
  • When you ask him where poop comes from, he points to his butt cheeks and goes “Ick!” (Thanks again Grandma!  This is going to be useful when figuring out which body part goes on the toilet seat.)
  • Says “Dada” to me  (…and random men in public.)
  • Brushes his teeth (…after he sucks all the toothpaste off the brush.)
  • Feeds himself with a spoon (…and the dogs too.)
  • He sees and points out things that are out-of-place.  (Why is that piece of grass on the sidewalk?  And he puts it back on the lawn.)
  • He points out all of his body parts (…and always double checks that his wee-wee is attached.)
  • He knows pretty much everything in the house (…he just doesn’t vocalize it.  Chicks dig a man of few words.  He’s on it already!)
  • And speaking of that, he stares at the pretty girls wherever we go.  (Right now, it’s the long creepy stare, But at least he’s got good taste in women!)
  • Can survive on grapes and juice for days. (Seriously?  He’s got supermodel tendencies.  All he needs to learn is the “Blue Steel” face.  That milestone’s at least a couple of months away.)

Stats on the Worm:

– 34″ tall

– 22 lb 2 oz

1″ vertical jump

– ∞ 40-yard dash  (He can’t run for more than a few feet before stopping to pick up some flower or bug on the ground.)

 

 

 

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