My Son Homer

Have you ever seen that episode of The Simpsons where the doctor makes this comment that Homer must have suffered some sort of blunt trauma to the head, then there’s a sequence of clip after clip from various different episodes where you see all the times Homer has taken one on the noggin?

Homer’s got nothing on my son Alexander.

Much like his mother, whom I’ve often referred to as “pinball” for her affinity for walking into and bouncing off of walls, Alexander has proven himself to be cut from the same silly putty. While we were playing last night, in the span of less than 10 minutes, Alexander whacked four different parts of his head six times on various objects: The back door, the underside of the kitchen table, the door frame to his bedroom, the box spring frame of our bed, the wall beside his dresser and the bookshelf on our landing.

I was initially thinking that for his forthcoming 2nd birthday I might try to buy him a bear suit to try to keep him protected, but based on the fact that he whacked himself really hard with every single hit but only stopped his playing to cry half of the time, I wonder if that’s even necessary. I mean, given the hard-headed nature of this child, I wonder if we’ll even need to ever buy him a helmet.