The Other Son

I've noticed that I've been giving all kinds of bandwidth to Aidan in this blog, and have said next to nothing about Malcolm. I worry that this may be an omen for the future, because I foresee Aidan being the Prodigal Son who causes me all kinds of headaches and worry, and Malcolm being the slightly neglected one, only because he is so darned well-behaved that he never needed much attention or discussion.

So, for the record . . . Malcolm is an exceeding sweet child. When we ask him to do something, heck, even when Aidan asks him to do something, more often than not he does it, and even does it enthusiastically. He gives hugs and kisses. He has an infectious laugh, with a cadance not unlike a dolphin. He is prone to doing bless-his-heart things like marching into my office, picking up the phone, putting it to his ear and saying "Talk-talk-talk." The other night he was in the tub, fumbling with a little water gun that came with a play carwash, and in a flash of insight he lifted it and squirted me right between the eyes. He gave me a grin that was so innocent that I couldn't even yell at him.

Which is not to say that he's a pushover. He is ferociously determined to do the things he wants to do. He seems more persistent in his quests than Aidan was, which is saying something. When he wants to flip a light switch, he lays seige to it. You could carry him away from it six times, and each time he will head back.