It’s like getting addled, caused by spending too much time with a toddler.
I have a new post up at milspouse.com/blog: “Adult Conversation.”
The other day I was explaining to my wife Danielle on the phone that Sean (our 17-month-old) and I had discovered two new monsters in our presence. One was the Washcloth Monster, who feeds on the crumbs little boys leave behind, and the other was the Hand Wipe Monster, his cousin, who follows us around town and feeds on little boys’ sticky paws.
Danielle said I needed more adult relationships, ASAP.
The social breakdown started happening long before it was Tom and Sean Time, All the Time, however. During the Year of Bliss, we became aware of a downward trend in how much we cared about typical social mores. We called it our “desocialization.” I’ll spare you most of the particulars. Bathroom doors started staying open, I began to find it very funny to show off my belly button lint. Etc.
As you spend more and more time as a family unit, you become more and more comfortable with each other, more and more secure in the knowledge that, for example, passing gas is not going to sour the deal.
I don’t know if you can ever go back to the way things were before. Probably not. Nor would I necessarily want to.
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