‘Outside?’

VIEWPOINT

By RALPH HARDIN

Evening Times Editor M y grandson will be 19 months old this Saturday.

That’s not a milestone age or anything but he has definitely been developing his own little personality.

When he was a little over a year old, we were working with him constantly on trying to walk. He was an Olympic- level crawler and booty-scooter but walking did not seem to interest him. Until one day, while over at my Mom’s house, he just decided to traverse the five foot gap between the couch and the love seat on foot. And he’s been basically walking ever since.

I mean, he’s pretty good at it, but not above tripping over his own feet sometimes, or even dangerous obstacles like the edge of the area rug. But still, once he started walking he is all about it. Which is great … except it certainly makes it easier for him to get in to mischief.

His favorite thing is to escape out of the doggie door that leads into the backyard. It’s like he will be just playing with whatever toys or books or watching TV and then suddenly, it occurs to him that he needs to go outside. I don’t know if he’s modeling the cats and dogs (because they do this all the time) or if he just remembers that there’s this place called “outside” that he wants to explore.

The most recent thing, though, is that he is going through a “language explosion” – or at least that’s what my son tells me the internet calls it. After mostly just babbling and sneaking in the occasional “ma-ma” or “bye-bye” or “pop-pop” here and there, he didn’t really show much interest in learning to talk. But then, in rapid-fire succession, he learned a bunch of new words, like “ball,” “shoes,” “bite,” “night-night,” “bath,” “apple,” “kit-kat” (which is both his favorite snack and his favorite animal) and the one that’s really going to be a problem … “please.”

Well, he actually says things like “bapple” for apple and “sheez” for please, which is actually worse, because it’s so cute that even if it’s going to ruin his appetite for supper, if he asks me, “bapple, sheez,” that boy is getting an apple.

In fact, everything the boy says is a question. “He will show me something in a book and then rattle of some nonsense. “Doop ba dibby shay?” Like he’s asking a question with the interrogatory inflection at the end. I guess it’s because we have been asking him questions his whole life. “You want a bite?” “Where are your shoes?” “Are you ready to go night-night?” “Are you stinky?”

So, I guess it was just a matter of time before he started asking to go outside. Let me tell you, when a little 18-month-old boy shuffles over to the front door, puts his hand on it and look at you and says, “owpside, sheez?” – well, it’s pretty hard to refuse a request like that.

And normally, I’m happy to take him outside. So, when he asks for “Outside?” we will usually head that way. But this time of year, going outside is a pretty hit-or-miss concept. I mean, last Friday, the schools were closed because of ice, snow and frigid temperatures. Then on Tuesday, it was 74 degrees. I’m not saying you can’t go outside when it’s cold, but well … I’m not going out there voluntarily, no matter how cute a certain menace is.

Luckily, warmer weather is on the way and in fact, the last couple of times he’s been over, it has been nice enough to go outside. He likes to chase birds and squirrels, play in the lead leaves that I have refused all winter long to rake, and he likes me to chase him around the yard.

But the other day, it was cold and raining and “outside” simply wasn’t on the menu. Of course, he didn’t understand that, but he was pretty bummed. So, of course, as soon as we weren’t paying close enough attention, he made his move. That’s when we heard the doggy door flap a couple of times.

My wife went into the kitchen and hollered for him to “Get back in this house!” in that tone only grandmothers can pull off. He poked his (now wet) little head back through the flap, grinning widely. He shuffled back into the laundry room and proudly held up a little yellow plushie doll.

“Bib-bir!” he said excitedly. It was his Big Bird doll. He has 10 or so plushies and it is a constant struggle to keep the dogs from carrying them out into the yard. I guess he had decided it was worth getting cold and wet to rescue his Sesame Street pal “Owpside, Bib-bir!” he said, very pleased with his accomplishment. How can you get mad after that?

The answer, of course, is that you can’t. He did not, however, ask to go outside again the rest of the day.