Thirty years ago, I turned two years old. Now, I'm a father of a two-year-old. That's just crazy.
The only memories I have from that time period can be triggered by the handful of pictures that I have from then. Meanwhile, I have thousands of pictures of my kid now, as well as dozens of hours of video. He watches himself on DVD sometimes and smiles heartily when he sees himself having fun.
We didn't have many pictures growing up. I guess processing and developing film was costly. In fact, it's possible we didn't even have a camera and that we only borrowed it on special occasions. Perhaps our earliest family picture was taken at a photo studio when I was about two years old, according to the scribbled note on the back of the print. There is also a solo of me picture of me wearing my best outfit.
It was probably my only outfit, actually. There's another picture of me in it when apparently my aunt's family came to visit. That must have been the reason why it was deemed a picture-taking occasion. There was one of me, my two brothers and our cousin together. And then there's another one of just me and her, being that we were about the same age. She had on her beautiful white dress, and I had my polo shirt, a pair of pants with a cat stylishly stitched in front. I had my one hand on the buttons of my shirt because I wasn't used to wearing them.
And shoes. It was definitely a special occasion if I was wearing shoes. I seldom wore them as a child. I always wore slippers, sometimes even when our grade school teachers scolded us for not being properly dressed. My son, meanwhile, is on his fifth pair already. At least. It could actually be around the seventh or tenth pair, actually. Kids' feet grow so fast.
I probably ran around naked most of the time. As a matter of fact, there is a picture of me without a shirt and another without pants. As for my son, he changes clothes before bedtime and in the morning before daycare. And then he changes clothes again if he get dirty or wet.
One of the memories that I recall from the picture with my cousin is that I was preoccupied with a couple of toy cars at the time. My guess would be that my aunt and uncle brought it as a present. They were plastic cars. One was white and one was black. I remember staring at the ground looking at them as we were standing in place.
I didn't have a lot of toys. I always had playmates because I had dozens of cousins. Literally. On both sides. Not only was the Philippines a Roman Catholic country, where abortion is illegal and condoms are sinful, it also was agrarian, which means more offspring meant more workers for the farm. But I digress.
The point is, I grew up around a large family. We lived in a surrounded compound where I could wander from our house all the way at the back of the property, past my uncle's house and to my grandmother's house in the front. Relatives were everywhere.
My wife's family is in Hawaii and mine is in the Philippines. It's pretty much just the three of us in our one bedroom apartment. My son doesn't see other kids outside of daycare. He doesn't like encountering kids in the playground because he doesn't know them. He will either stare or yell at them, and I have to remind him to be nice.
I don't have any videos of me from when I was very young. The first time I was videotaped was when I was about ten years old. My mom had been living in America and a friend of hers from our town came back on vacation. As a favor, she attended a party at our house and took some video of us to take back to my mom.
On the other hand, my son just yesterday was watching our home videos of himself. I mentioned his joy when sees himself having fun. Likewise, he gets concerned when he sees himself upset.
My wife thinks I'm sadistic when I videotape him crying, but I like to chronicle different moments. And it's only for a few seconds. And it's not like I just let him keep crying. I'm not evil. Right?
Anyways, one moment we watched was during bedtime, and he didn't want to go to sleep, so he started whining and crying. And I told him to use his words, but he kept crying anyway. As my son watched this, he said, "He crying. He want Dennis Bird." (We named it that because it was an angry bird given by a friend named Dennis).
I thought it was interesting. Here is my two year old son watching himself and explaining his behavior to his dad. At the time he was so upset that he couldn't use his words. And now he is able to look back on it and help us understand him.
Thirty years from now, he might have a kid of his own and they might watch be watching that same video. That would make me a grandpa. Now that's really crazy.
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